


Twin Daggers

by MagicMage



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2017-12-28 02:54:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 56,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMage/pseuds/MagicMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keladryl Mahariel never asked to become anyone's hero. He was content to living out his life as a nobody with his clan. One mistake changed all of that. One mistake threw him into the path of a dangerous assassin. </p><p>Or, was the assassin thrown to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> This story is currently undergoing a serious overhaul, please refer to chapter 18 for reference).

Keladryl Mahariel, Dalish in origin, of the Sabrae clan.

He was a bit short, even for an elf, with a lithe figure and the speed and silent grace to match. He had short red hair which barely brushed the middle of his neck, and a long piece which was braided back and pinned against the left side of his head. His ears, angular features, and nose pegged him an elf.

He’d been chosen for a roll of one of the head hunters for his clan, he’d been running all his life through the forests and knew just how to make them bend to his will. He could run through the underbrush in silence, while wielding a bow and stalking a stag and yet…

Amber eyes roved over the camp of men, human men. He’d been pushed past, called names, had the quarter master demand armour he did not possess because he’d been mistaken as someone else…who later turned out to be a _female_ elf with _long black_ hair.

He wanted to go home. More than anything, the clash between calm and panic at the camp made him desperate to turn tail and return to his clan. He wished for the surety of his clan around him, here he felt off balance, unwanted, and wrong.

Besides that, the taint burnt through his veins. He felt heavy and exhausted, the temporary magic which his Keeper had worked on him was wearing off and the urge to drop to the ground and let what would happen just happen was getting stronger.

Not for the first time he wondered if things would be entirely different if he and Tamlen had not gone into that cave. For all he’d searched until he was too exhausted to think, the taint burning in him even then, Tamlen had been nowhere to be found. And Merrill had wondered at the mirror which had taken him from them, like it was a thing of beauty.

His heart still hurt from the way Keeper Marethari had begged for Duncan to take him, the way his clan had looked at him with a mixture of fear and sadness as he was taken forced to leave with the Grey Warden. His mother would frown upon him for allowing himself to be taken away so easily. He should have fought to stay.

At the camp he had already encountered a large, unwieldy, human man who claimed to be another recruit. The man had been startled that an elf could possibly be a Warden.

Mahariel had been surprised as well. The man was a coward, that much had been obvious just by looking at him. He had flinched at everything and his voice had wavered as he spoke as if he were afraid of the very air he breathed. If such cowards were allowed to become Wardens, how had they lasted this long?

Another man, tall and thin, had also claimed to be a recruit. He had also been surprised that Mahariel was an elf. The man had smelt of dishonesty and secrets.

Why was it so strange for an elf to be a Warden? He had found no comradery in the camp. He, whose clan had more honour and bravery than either of those men held in one hand, was frowned upon, while they were accepted by the camp as equals. The shems knew nothing of equals.

Mahariel twisted his Keeper’s ring around his finger as he wandered through the camp, frowning at the ground and trying to stay out of the way of anyone who came by. He hated these people, their camp, their dogs who swallowed darkspawn blood, and their Warden recruits. His homesickness sat heavy in his belly, heavier than the underlying feeling of nausea he’d had ever since leaving that Creators’ forsaken cave.

He had come to the top of a set of stairs, away from the planning table where city elf servants had refused to talk to him. He only wanted help finding his way around, yet even _they_ looked down their noses at him. As if lowly flat-ear city elves were better than the Dalish.

He heard raised voices and looked up from his wandering. A large brown human was arguing with an even larger white one, the former was in robes, the latter in chainmail armour. He did not catch their argument, but as the man in the robes turned to leave their heated argument he spat, “Get out of my way, fool!” and stalked away.

He watched after the angry man for a moment. The man had not known him long enough to know whether he was a fool or not. Shemlen were strange creatures; they all seemed to get ideas about who he was before even knowing him.

“You know,” the larger man started, taking a step towards him. “One good thing about the blight is how it brings people together.”

Mahariel blinked at the man, brows furrowing together and raising in confusion. “What?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re another mage,” the man continued, tone friendly even though he was clearly whining.

Mahariel memorised the man’s features immediately, short brown hair, ovalish face, and a sharp jaw. He was clearly a knight of some sort, made obvious by his armour and the size of him, he’d clearly been trained since he was young and grown into his shape because of it. And he was human, yet another shem who would cast him aside like the rest. A frown settled on his face.

“Would you hate me if I were?” he asked, his tone sharp with badly masked insecurity. He rested his hands on his dagger hilts, as he often did when he was nervous.

“No, I suppose not. I just like to know who can turn me into a toad at any moment,” the knight told him brightly. Mahariel’s frown stayed in place, yet the man seemed unfazed. “Oh! You must be the new recruit Duncan told me about. I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Instead of replying to the knight he waited, watching the man blankly, waiting for him to make some sort of comment about how he was an elf, or how surprised he was that he was an elf, or anything really, but the knight just stood there smiling expectantly at him in a way which made him relax. He let one arm drop to his side, the other stayed at its place on his hilt.

“How do you recognise me?” he asked, baiting, testing, once again waiting for that comment he’d expected before.

“Oh, Duncan sent a letter ahead of you with a rather detailed description,” was the reply.

And…that was it? No words about how odd it was that he was an elf, no sneer at either side of his head before immediately dismissing him, no derogatory terminology? Just…just ‘a rather detailed description’.

The mask of disdain which he’d been wearing slipped, his eyes widening as he took in the man with great confusion and wonder. This human, this shem, did not care that he was an elf? Or was he hiding it? Surely that was it. Though, even as he searched the man for dishonesty, he could not find it.

He turned slightly, looking down towards the ground thoughtfully and trying to make himself look disinterested. He didn’t want anyone getting any ideas that he liked them, none of these people would know him long enough to care anyways. He crossed his arms.

“And, who are you?” he asked, looking back up at the knight and blinking once or twice, his curiosity betrayed in his eyes.

“Ah, sorry, I’m Alistair, a newly recruited Grey Warden. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

Mahariel blinked, turning back to him and tilting his head out of habit. This was be most personable greeting he’d received by far. Even the childish human king had approached him with a smart remark about his people, yet this man seemed to have no ill will towards him and no preconceived ideas of who he was.

“K…Keladryl Mahariel,” he replied, both his hands dropping to his sides now. “Why was that man angry at you?” he asked. He was a genuinely curious person when he wasn't trying so hard to be displeased. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction that the man had gone in.

“Ah, that. You see, before I was a Grey Warden I was in training to be a Templar, and as it would have it the Revered Mother knew that and had me deliver a message to the mages. I believe they took it as an insult, which she probably meant to happen…” the explanation trailed off and Mahariel was suddenly filled with questions.

Why was he training to be a Templar? What was a revered mother? Were Templars really giant humans who stole away Keepers? Why should the mages be insulted that he had delivered a message? Why had the man been wearing a dress?

The questions lay at the tip of his tongue, yet he refused to ask them, still attempting to hide his interest for this strange human man.

“Shall we go find the others? I’m sure they’ve gathered at Duncan’s campfire by now,” Alistair continued, which Mahariel was glad for because he’d been about to ask what the message was.

“Alright,” he replied neutrally, nodding once before turning to head back down the stairs to the grounds.

“Right, lead the way,” Alistair said enthusiastically from behind him.

Mahariel’s lips tugged up in the slightest of smiles as his boots touched the dirt again.

~oOo~

Mahariel had quickly come to the decision that the only Warden in his group that he had any liking for was Alistair. ‘Ser Jory’ and Daveth were equal parts annoying and whiny. Ser Jory was a coward who could do no more than belly ache and flinch at his own shadow, while Daveth saw his own doom in every speck of dust and thought laughing at it would distract from the fact that he was terrified of it.

Alistair, cautious yet mostly optimistic, had been the easiest to travel alongside while searching out the darkspawn blood.

Mahariel was beginning to tire. The taint in his veins was making his vision cloudy at times. His head hurt and his stomach rolled as they went through the Wilds, his footsteps silent behind the heavy footed humans who led the way. He had run out of the last of the potions which Keeper Marethari had given him to stay the pain upon arriving at Ostagar.

Yet, he did less complaining than the two men before him, who had found everything from trail signs, to animals, to an injured man to complain and worry about.

“The chest with the scrolls should be just up here…Mahariel are you alright?”

Mahariel looked up to find Alistair looking at him with concern. Daveth looked over his shoulder in boredom and Ser Jory seemed more concerned that he may grow a second head from the look he was giving him. Mahariel blinked and shook his head to make the memory of Marrill asking him a very similar question, while Fenarel looked on with concern, dissipate.

“Fine,” he replied, voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

“You’re pale,” Alistair told him.

“ _Fine_ ,” he repeated. He forced his feet to carry him past the men and up the rest of the hill into the ruins of the tower. He was not going to be considered a weakling by these men who flinched at mice.

As he approached the chest it was apparent that something wasn’t right. The chest itself was crushed, rubble fallen around it. The lid was partially missing and it didn’t take more than a glance to realise that the chest was empty.

“Well, well, what have we here?” a female voice asked. Mahariel looked up, startled to find a woman standing on a ramp once belonging to the castle. It was a testament to how ill he was feeling that he hadn’t seen her as he approached the chest, as it was she blurred slightly as she stepped down the ramp.

Mahariel stood, one hand going to his hilt as she approached. Alistair and the other two men stood behind him. They looked shocked, their hands not on their weapons, rather clenched as if they thought they would fight her bare-handed. Mahariel side stepped, keeping an eye on her as he came closer and they met at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?” the woman asked. “Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” As she came to a stop Mahariel tilted his head, despite the harshness of her words he did not sense malice in her. “What say you, hmm?” she demanded finally. “Scavenger or intruder?”

She seemed to be speaking directly to him, even though there were three other men, one of whom was his senior, right behind him. He frowned at her, but relaxed his stance slightly. She was a human female with a soft face and features, other than her nose and lips which were both prominent features on her face. She wore an outfit like nothing he’d ever seen before, with a stave at her back.

She was clearly a mage. He knew that human mages were not supposed to wander outside of something called a circle. He’d inferred from the conversation which Duncan and Alistair had had at his campfire that Templars made mages angry.

“We’re intruders, I suppose. I have never been to the Wilds before,” Mahariel told her calmly, shrugging slightly.

“Indeed,” the woman said, tilting her nose towards the air and wandering past. Mahariel turned to watch her as she went, noting that she walked with the same silence in her step as he did, and keeping a safe distance away from her. “I have watched your progress for some time. ‘Where do they go,’ I wondered, ‘why are they here?’ And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?”

They followed her movements as she stepped out of the remains of the tower and onto the hill outside it. Mahariel frowned at her as she looked at them in interest. She did not seem like the other humans he had met, though she was female and he’d mostly met males.

“Don’t answer her,” Alistair warned. “She looks Chasind, and that means there are others nearby.”

Mahariel glanced at him, having no idea what he meant by ‘chastened’. The woman did not look like she had been told off at all.

“Oh, you fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?” the woman asked, gesturing animatedly.

“Yes, swooping is _bad_ ,” Alistair retorted. Mahariel had to cover his mouth to cover up the snort or laughter which expelled from him. He was doing a very bad job of not liking their temporary leader.

“She’s a witch of the wilds she is!” Daveth exclaimed nervously. “She’ll turn us into toads!”

“Witch of the wilds,” the woman taunted, her hands on her hips. “Such idle fancies those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there, elf, you are Dalish, are you not? Does your heritage give you a different view? Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

Mahariel frowned at her, then blinked at her for a moment, unsure if she was trying to snub his race or point out that maybe he out of all of them could behave civilly. It was a civil man who offered his name in the first conversation after all.

“I am Keladryl Mahariel…it is a pleasure to meet you,” he said, hoping she had meant the latter with her words.

“Now that is a proper greeting, even here in the Wilds,” the woman said, sounding pleased with the slightest of smiles playing on her lips. “You may call me Morrigan, if you wish.”

Mahariel could not help the smile he gave her in return, his hands relaxing at his sides finally as he determined she was not a threat after all.

“Morrigan, we came here looking for the Grey Warden scrolls which were at one time located in that chest.” Mahariel told her, keeping his tone polite as he spoke.

“Ah yes…the scrolls. They are here no longer, indeed,” Morrigan told him, her tone playful. Mahariel would not be at all surprised if this entire thing was a game to her, he’d played similar games upon humans who had stumbled too close to his clan many times.

“Here no longer?” Alistair demanded. “You stole them, didn’t you? You’re…some kind of…sneaky…witch-thief!”

“Sneaky witch-thief?” Mahariel muttered at Alistair over his shoulder as Morrigan looked on smugly.

“How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?” she asked, looking all too pleased with herself.

“Quite easily, it seems,” Alistair replied, grumbling slightly. “Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”

“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them,” Morrigan told him, sounding as if she was becoming cross. She glared at Alistair as she spoke. “Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

Mahariel recognised that the woman knew exactly where the scrolls were, but Alistair’s approach was turning her off of wanting to help them. He took a slight step forward as the woman crossed her arms around her chest.

“Can you tell us who did remove them?” he asked calmly.

“’twas my mother, in fact.”

Mahariel smiled again. “Can you take us to her?” he asked, catching Ser Jory flinch out of the corner of his eye.

Morrigan hummed happily. “There is a sensible request, I like you,” she told him. Mahariel found that he actually liked that she liked him.

“I’d…be careful,” Alistair warned, tone slightly laced with confusion. “First it’s, ‘I like you’…but then ‘Zap!’ Frog time.”

Mahariel looked over his shoulder at him, brows raised. He had never seen a mage turn someone into a frog, neither the Keeper nor her first, and he wondered where Alistair’s obsession with mages turning people into frogs came from.

“She’ll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch.” Daveth put in nervously. Mahariel turned to glare at him, tired all over again at his whining and cowardice. His headache was coming back in full force.

He began approaching Morrigan just in time to hear Ser Jory put in his own complaint, this time about how the forest was too cold. He rolled his eyes as he came into step with Morrigan.

“Follow me, then, if it pleases you.” she instructed, taking a step further into the brush and leading them away from the tower.

Mahariel wished she had told the humans to wait behind them, he did not want to hear about how the grasses got into the men’s boots or how the flies flew into their eyes or any such other things anymore.

The ground wobbled beneath his feet as he followed in silence, several paces behind Morrigan.

“Have you put up with this bellyaching for long?” Morrigan asked him suddenly, also suddenly beside him. He did not know if she had slowed to his pace, or if he had sped to hers.

“It is annoying, isn’t it?” Mahariel asked, looking up at her tiredly. The pain he was in way making it hard to be in a good mood. Behind them somewhere Jory tripped over a root and complained loudly about it. “Humans are strange creatures, they live in this world and yet can only seem to complain about it.”

“I am human,” Morrigan told him, words warning, but her tone sounding more curious.

“If you are of the forest, as you say, then you are like no human I have met so far,” Mahariel told her, which earned him a slight smile out of her before she started on ahead of him again.

“I hope this task of yours cures what ails you Keladr-“

“Mahariel.”

“Mahariel, then, for otherwise…you are not long for this world I fear.” Morrigan told him, looking over her shoulder at him with something akin to pity. That she knew what was wrong with him told him she was much more powerful than she was letting on.

He had to hold back the urge to reply, ‘I hope not.’ in response to the imminence of his death. Instead he just followed on in silence, trying to drown out the complaints of the others and the feeling as if the world had suddenly been tilted on its side.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mahariel groaned softly as he came to consciousness, his body heavy with the feeling of a healing. His mind scrambled desperately for memories, where he was, why he was there. The last thing he remembered was being on top of the tower of Ishal, they’d defeated an ogre and gone to light the beacon…and then…

Forcing his stiff body to move, Mahariel sat up and looked around the building he was in. It appeared to be a hut, one he did not recognise immediately. His sense of smell, however, told him exactly where he was. This was the home of the old witch and her daughter, Morrigan. He was back in the wilds.

But what had happened to him? Where was Alistair?

“So, you have finally awoken,” came a smooth voice, he recognised Morrigan. He looked up as Morrigan came around the corner, arms around her middle as she moved. She sounded slightly annoyed, her expression strained.

“I am in your hut,” Mahariel stated softly. “But I do not know why.” He looked around the room again, gaze settling on the daggers which were rested at his side, his bow leaned against the bed. His ring was still on his finger, and he could feel his necklace around his neck. Someone had gone to great lengths for him to feel safe when he woke.

“You are mostly correct, this is my mother’s hut…do you not remember what happened atop the tower?” Morrigan asked, taking a step closer to the bed. He felt off kilter, his hand curling around the hilt of one of his blades before he released it again. Morrigan glanced at his hand movements and then nodded shortly at him.

Instead he settled for spinning the ring on his finger.

“There was an ogre, and Alistair and I set the signal fire but...” he paused, his head hurting at the effort of remembering. “The human general…why…why did he not come?” Even as he looked up at Morrigan with an expression of confusion and hurt he knew the answer. They’d been tricked, simple as that. This was just another case of a shemlen behaving like a shemlen.

“Your general quit the field, you and the army were overrun by darkspawn, most perished. Your friend is not taking it well.” Morrigan’s tone was consoling. Mahariel was stuck between feeling the cold fury which was running through his veins and the sadness of the realisation that everyone besides him, and ‘a friend’, were dead.

“And how we came to be here?” he asked, standing shakily and casting around the room briefly for his gear before finding it.

“Mother,” Morrigan answered simply. ”She was also the one who healed you.”

Mahariel nodded slowly as he pulled on the last of his gear, used to getting dressed quickly and feeling slightly self-conscious at being nude in front of the woman. As he replaced his quiver and bow and slipped his daggers back into their sheathes he looked back up at Morrigan. He had a sneaking suspicion she’d done much more than she was letting on.

“Thank you Morrigan,” he said, slipping past her and to the door.

“I did not do much, as I said it was mostly mother who-“

“Thank you,” Mahariel repeated as he slipped out the door, looking over his shoulder at her with great gratitude as he shut the door behind him.

The friend she spoke of, he sincerely hoped was Alistair. Though it could have been anyone, Duncan, the human king, or one of the men who had helped them reach the top of the tower.

As he approached the edge of the marsh outside it became clear that the Creators were at least watching over him today, for Alistair stood beside the water apparently in conversation with Morrigan’s mother.

“Look here, you worry for nothing man,” Morrigan’s mother said, motioning at him with her chin.

Alistair swung to look at him, his eyes widening as he did so. Mahariel came to a stop a few paces away from him, looking up at him from the ground. He was glad to see he was in one piece, but he felt badly for having worried him.

“Y-You’re alive…I thought…” Alistair stuttered, reaching up for a moment as if planning to grab him and make sure he was real before letting his hand fall back to his side in a fit. “This is terrible, Cailan and Duncan are…”

Mahariel looked at Alistair, seeing how choked up he was and feeling a same sort of sadness. For all Duncan had taken him from his family, his clan, he had reserved himself to following the man into the fray. Now he was gone, and Alistair had cared much for him. His gaze found the ground and stayed there for some time.

“Now is not the time to wallow in our sorrows and be lost in our thoughts boys,” Morrigan’s mother told them.

Alistair sighed softly, rubbing a hand over his face as Mahariel looked up at him. “We’d both be dead as well if not for Morrigan’s mother,” Alistair told him, though he knew that well enough already.

“Do not speak about me as if I am not here boy,” Morrigan’s mother warned.

“I’m sorry, but you never told us your name.” Mahariel told her, watching her look between the two of them with a vague interest which made his skin crawl as it had done when he’d first met her.

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do,” the woman replied. Mahariel nodded slowly, still trying to process everything which had happened.

“The Flemeth? From the legends?” Alistair sighed. “Daveth was right- you-you’re a Witch of the Wilds, aren’t you?”

Mahariel still had no idea what that meant.

“And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well has it not?” Flemeth asked, sounding slightly defensive.

“Yes, it has,” Mahariel said, attempting to intervene before Alistair got them into trouble. “Thank you for that.”

“No, no, thank you, you are the Grey Wardens here, not I,” Flemeth told him, waving off his gratitude as if it were a fly. Mahariel tilted his head at her. “It is _still_ the Grey Warden’s duty to unite the lands against the Blight, is it not? Or did that change when I wasn’t looking?”

Mahariel sighed, looking back at the ground and shuffling uncomfortably. “How are we supposed to unite the lands when we cannot even trust some shem general to do his job when he is asked?” Mahariel asked helplessly, looking back up to find that Flemeth was looking at him with slight pity on her face.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Alistair insisted, looking at Mahariel and shaking his head. “Why would he do this?” He turned back to Flemeth, as if she would have the answer.

“Now _that_ is a good question," Flemeth replied, before her expression fell slightly. "Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature.” Mahariel shuffled again, hands resting on the hilts of his daggers, he didn't want to say how much he agreed with her statement. “Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmanoeuvre,” she continued. “Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat.”

“The archdemon…” Alistair muttered, glancing over at him again before looking back at Flemeth. Mahariel thought that he had seen the archdemon, briefly, during his vision after drinking the darkspawn blood from the Joining Cup. The memory of the Joining made his skin crawl, but the memory of the archdemon made him want to be sick. It was a fearsome creature, he did not want to have to fight it.

“We need to find a way to…defeat this archdemon,” Mahariel said softly, afraid his words would be mocked. Even as he said it he felt Flemeth raise an eyebrow at him.

“What, all two of you?” she asked.

“No, I mean, we still have those treaties which Duncan had us find, do we not?” He looked up, between Flemeth and Alistair. Flemeth was giving him a look of approval, though he did not think he deserved it.

“Of course! With the treaties we can call upon elves, mages, dwarves, and others for help during the Blight!” Alistair exclaimed, looking at him with the makings of hope in his face. “And we could go to Redcliffe and appeal to Arl Eamon, he wasn’t at Ostagar and he was Cailan’s _uncle_. He would never stand for what Loghain did.”

Mahariel frowned at him. “Arl Eamon…do you think this man would help us?” He was reluctant to place blind faith in any human. No, at this point he was reluctant to place faith in  _anyone._

“I do. He’s a good man, respected in the Landsmeet.” Alistair told him. Mahariel didn’t know what a ‘lands meet’ was, but he didn’t want to slow Alistair’s sudden enthusiasm.

“I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…this sounds like an army to me.” Flemeth said, looking quite pleased with herself. Mahariel wondered why she hadn’t just told them what to do in the first place. Morrigan was very like her.

“So…can we do this?” Alistair asked him. “Can we go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?”

“Why are you asking me?” Mahariel asked, feeling as if he was having hard too much pressure put upon him. He looked at Alistair with eyes wide with fear. He did not want to suddenly be the leader of this impossible task. As fired up as Alistair was, Mahariel was unsure that anyone would help them.

“Because I…I want to make sure that you’re up to this,” Alistair said, backtracking slightly. Mahariel shrugged and dropped his gaze.

“I do not see why we could not do this.” Regardless of whether anyone actually helped them, there was no one stopping them from going. It wasn't as though they had any other choice, either.

“So are you set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?” Flemeth asked. Mahariel chewed his lip and squeezed his dagger hilt. He was nowhere near ready to be a Grey Warden. Now, more than ever, he wished to slink back into the forests and disappear. 

“Yes, I think so…yes, definitely.” Alistair said, turning to Mahariel and looking much surer than he himself was feeling.

“Now…before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you,” Flemeth told them, getting Alistair’s attention again.

At that moment Morrigan appeared at their side, almost as if on cue.

“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have two guests for the eve or none?” she asked with disinterest, looking over the two of them in turn. Mahariel was still chewing on his lip.

“The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them,” Flemeth told her. Mahariel looked up at her in disbelief, uncertain his ears had just heard what he thought they heard.

“Such a shame—what?” Morrigan, who had turned to them clearly expecting something very different, looked back at her mother in shock, quite as Mahariel was already doing.

“You heard me, girl. The last time I looked you had ears!” Flemeth cackled, throwing her head back.

“Y-You’re sending your daughter with us?” Mahariel asked, finding his tongue again.

“And why not?” Flemeth asked, finding him with eyes like a hawk and the laughter gone from her voice all at once. “I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed.”

“But mother…this is not how I wanted this,” Morrigan protested.

“If she doesn’t want to come…” Alistair began, but Mahariel hushed him.

“You have been wanting this for years, girl. Alone these two must unite the lands against the Blight. Without you they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight, even I,” Flemeth told her daughter sternly. Morrigan sighed, staring at the ground for a moment with a scowl on her face before looking up again.

“I…understand,” Morrigan muttered.

“We will keep her safe, Flemeth,” Mahariel told her earnestly.

“Allow me to get my things, if you please,” Morrigan grumbled, turning away from them and returning to the house.

“Do you really want to bring her with us?” Alistair asked, turning to him as Flemeth looked on with mild interest. “She’s an apostate.”

“I don’t know what an ‘apostate’ is,” Mahariel told him honestly. “What I do know is that I don’t want to make the person who just saved our lives angry, and that we need all the help we can get.”

“That…is true,” Alistair conceded, sighing softly and staring off into the distance. Mahariel looked at him, not liking how sad he seemed. He wanted to make him feel better, but he knew nothing would. Looking at Alistair's face, he found himself thinking of his own loss; the loss of his clan, and Tamlen. There was no 'better".

When Morrigan returned several minutes later Mahariel was seated on the ground with Alistair standing beside him, still looking lost in thought and forlorn. He pushed himself to his feet as she approached.

“I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. ‘Tis not far and you will find much you need there,” she told them. Mahariel wondered if she had been planning her speech the entire time she packed, though she only carried a meager pack. “Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

Mahariel spoke before Alistair could open his mouth. “I would prefer you spoke your mind,” he told her. Flemeth cackled.

“Oh you will regret that,” she said.

“Dear sweet mother, thank you so much for sending me away,” Morrigan snapped. Mahariel frowned, wondering if she felt as he did when his Keeper had sent him away. “Do not forget the stew on the fire, I would hate to return to a burned-down hut.”

“Bah! ‘Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight,” Flemeth replied, sounding not the least concerned about that fact.

“I...all I meant was…” Morrigan looked distressed, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes, I know,” Flemeth continued. “Do try to have fun, dear.”

“Thank you again Flemeth,” Mahariel said, sensing their conversation was over.

“No, as I said before, thank _you_ ,” Flemeth replied, turning to return to her hut.

Morrigan sighed. “Well, shall we go? I should like to get a move on before the darkspawn come to ‘swallow us up’.” Though Morrigan spoke with an airy tone, Mahariel could sense her distress.

“Yes, I suppose so. Please, lead the way,” he asked, smiling at her and gesturing into the forest. Alistair’s silence was putting him on edge. He just wanted to get this task started so he could finish it, no matter how long it took.


	3. Chapter 3

The village they’d decided to stop at was a quiet and quaint little town. Yet, on their way in, they had been waylaid by bandits who thought to ask them for money in exchange for safe passage into the village. Mahariel was once again shocked and dismayed at the levels to which shemlen would sink for their own personal gain.

He’d already been set on edge by being addressed as ‘an elf of all things’ and so when they had refused to back down and let them pass he had attacked them. Alistair, as of this point silent and depressed, hadn’t even seemed surprised by the attack. Morrigan had wondered why he had even bothered trying to talk.

The trio stepped down the steps of the walls and paused at the landing, Morrigan and Alistair staring out into the sea of refugees while Mahariel continued the rest of the way down the steps to wipe the blood from his daggers onto the grass. When he was finished he sat at the bottom of the steps, watching the two who were standing on the landing.

Morrigan surveyed the refugees with her arms crossed and a look of disgust on her face, Alistair stood behind her looking a bit more ‘there’ than he had been for hours.

“Well, there it is, Lothering. Pretty as a painting,” Alistair mused, taking a sweeping glance of all that was around them, before his gaze settled on Mahariel at the foot of the steps.

“Why, it seems you have finally joined us,” Morrigan taunted sarcastically. Alistair turned to glare at her.

Mahariel stood slowly, sheathing his daggers and looking intently at Alistair. “You have been very quiet, Alistair.”

The knight turned to him, giving him a similarly appraising look and shrugging his shoulders slightly in response.

“Well, if you ask me,” Morrigan began. “You have been both been shuffling about quite helplessly.”

Alistair scowled at her. Mahariel turned to stare blankly at the carts, people, animals, and other things which were collected quite tightly in the field before them. He sighed, knowing that Morrigan’s words were true. If he had been asked to retrace their steps back to Flemeth’s hut he would not have been able to, which was poor tracking on his part.

“We have to stay focused,” he muttered, mostly to himself, daring a glance at Alistair and finding the man was similarly lost in his own thoughts again. At his words Alistair snapped back to attention.

“Have you had a look at the treaties?” Alistair asked, clearly trying to be helpful. Mahariel nodded simply, glancing between Morrigan and Alistair. “And?”

He shrugged, having absolutely no idea where they should go. He didn’t want to be the leader of this group, no matter how important their task was. Part of him desperately wanted to go to the Dalish, to return to his people even if they weren’t _his_ people, and he certainly didn’t want anything to do with the dwarfs, he also definitely didn’t want to go near any human cities for help. Yet Redcliffe, the human city he wanted to avoid, was the closest on their maps and according to Alistair’s enthusiasm the easiest to ally to their cause.

“I know where we’re going,” Mahariel stated, lying flagrantly. He was not new to lying however, not by a long shot, and Alistair simply nodded at him, believing him without question.

“I have a wonder, Alistair,” Morrigan started suddenly. Mahariel was surprised she’d waited so long to butt in.

“I’m sure you do,” Alistair replied with a sigh, descending the rest of the stairs to come to Mahariel’s side with a nod.

Mahariel nodded back as Morrigan continued, her voice lilting charmingly, “of the two of you that remain, are you not the senior Grey Warden here?”

Alistair replied with a sigh as they wandered through the sea of refugees and their various meager belongings.

Morrigan pressed on as she walked behind them, “I find it curious that you allow another to lead, while you follow.”

“You find that curious, do you?” Alistair asked, sounding not at all interested in the direction of the conversation. Mahariel had wondered, similarly, why he was being made to lead, but he hadn’t actually thought to ask Alistair about it.

“In fact,” Morrigan continued. “You defer to a new recruit. Is this a policy of the Grey Wardens?”

“What do you want to hear? That I prefer to follow?” Alistair asked, tone sharp as he turned to glare at the mage. “Because I do.”

“You sound so _very_ defensive.” Morrigan stated, sounding completely calm against Alistair’s frustration.

Mahariel ignored them, preferring to continue walking through the village as the refugees and villagers watched and whispered about why there was a knife ear leading two humans. They continued to bicker even as he paused to pick some elfroot, even as they entered the heart of the village, even as he began picking through abandoned crates and boxes to see if he could find anything to sell.

“Now it is the elf who has gone quiet,” Morrigan said disapprovingly. “What are you sulking for?”

Mahariel did not rise to her bait, she had tried many times on their way to Lothering to drag him out of his thoughts by annoying him and she hadn’t succeeded thus far. Instead he stood and turned to her, holding his hand open.

“I found this,” he said. A golden chain sat curled in his palm. “Do you want it?” He tilted his head, watching as Morrigan’s face twisted slightly as if the very thought of a golden chain was offensive to her.

“D…do I want it?” she sputtered, sounding quite confused. Alistair watched over her shoulder, looking amused.

“The women of the clan always seemed to enjoy things like this, so I thought-“

“You thought what? That since I am a woman I would thus enjoy such a bauble?” Morrigan demanded.

Mahariel was unfazed, tilting his head just a bit more with his hand still outstretched. “We could sell it,” he stated plainly, watching as Morrigan warred with herself.

“Very well.” Morrigan nodded. Mahariel was about to stuff the chain into his pack, but Morrigan reached out and snatched it from his hand. He smiled, shrugging slightly and turning to walk away. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her examine the necklace and then stuff it into her own pack before turning away again.

Alistair rushed up to walk beside him as he continued on his way through the village.

“While I cannot abide by your stealing,” Alistair began.

Mahariel interrupted him by turning to him with a frown on his face. “It is hardly stealing if they leave their things outside, is it?” he asked. “Why would they leave something outside if they wanted it?”

“It’s on their property,” Alistair explained, brows furrowing at him.

“Property,” Mahariel repeated, frown deepening in confusion. Humans were so strange. He shook his head slightly, turning away from Alistair to continue through the village.

It wasn’t long before they reached the village inn. The sounds of people making merry despite the impending doom was confusing for Mahariel, as well as overwhelming, and so he continued right past it.

“That is where we will find supplies, should we need them,” Morrigan told him as he ignored its existence entirely. Instead he came to stop in front of a woman who was standing amongst a group of refugees. She looked sick, and coughed as he approached.

“Have you been taken care of?” she rasped, coughing again. “Got beds and the like?”

Mahariel stared blankly at her. She was the first human who had offered him help here, most having either turned up their noses at him or muttered about him behind their hands. A small boy had even had the audacity to say that elves were not very good people to him after he’d pointed him in the direction of a priest for help.

“We aren’t refugees,” he stated, confusion etched in his features.

“I figured as much, but it is hard to tell,” the woman replied. “Is there any way I can help you?” She coughed again.

As Mahariel tried to comprehend by this woman was trying to help them, Alistair spoke up from just behind him, “We were actually wondering if we could help you.” He came up beside Mahariel, standing just a step in front of him rather than behind.

“We hardly need any, there isn’t much that can be done for this sorry lot,” the woman explained, looking around hopelessly at the refugees. “Though, if you have the ability to make poultices? We need health poultices for the sick.”

Alistair’s shoulders fell slightly, but Mahariel spoke up. “How many?” he asked.

Alistair jumped slightly, clearly surprised he was offering to help. When he turned to look at him, Mahariel just shrugged. He treated people who treated him well with the same courtesy.

“Four or five should suffice,” the woman croaked.

Mahariel nodded. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he told the woman, stepping off to the side to find something to sit upon.

Alistair and Morrigan followed and stood over him, Alistair closer than Morrigan.

“Do we even have ingredients and supplies for poultices?” Alistair asked incredulously. His mouth fell open as Mahariel pulled several elfroot plants, a mortar and pestle, and several empty flasks out of his pack. He’d had the flasks from the medicine his keeper had given him. He’d kept them just in case.

Alistair, who he had ignored, was clearly quite surprised by his preparedness. He plunked down on the ground beside him and watched as he started crushing the elfroot with his mortar. Morrigan stood, her back turned to them now, and looked out into the crowded streets.

It was clear that no one was in as much of a hurry to get away from the horde as they were, most people were busy gossiping of the ‘failure’ at Ostagar. He had overheard several people speaking of ‘the Grey Warden’s treachery’.

Mahariel glanced up at Alistair again. “While you were arguing with Morrigan I was picking supplies. I figured we would need them…unless these are also ‘property’?”

“No, uh…no this is fine,” Alistair stuttered. Mahariel returned to his work.

After a few moments more of his work he spoke again, “why does this shem want to help these people?” He was confused, most anyone he’d met thus far had been selfish and nasty. Even the people that the Chantry has insisted that they could not offer anyone any help. Yet, this strange woman who seemed to be ill herself was interested in helping others. Why? Alistair remained quiet, so he elaborated, “shems don’t want to help anyone. They don't even seem to want to help themselves.” He pounded the elfroot, waiting for an answer, but unsure he really wanted it.

“They’re just scared Mahariel,” Alistair told him gently.

“He is not wrong," Morrigan disagreed. "They feed off of each other like rabid beasts. His confusion is not unfounded.” Morrigan turned to watch him work as well.

“But this one wants to help,” Mahariel said, mixing the rest of his ingredients and pouring the mixture into his flasks.

“Is it really so surprising that someone wants to help people?” Alistair asked as Mahariel corked his flasks.

Mahariel looked up at him, brows furrowed. He could not believe that some lowly woman would want to help anyone, not after what he’d seen of the highest of the human hierarchy. “Yet is it understandable that a man, considered honourable, would leave his king to die?" he asked, hurt slipping into his tone.

He stood, collecting his poultices in his arms and taking a step away.

“And I’m sure that the Dalish spend all day getting along and singing songs with each other,” Alistair snapped, sounding hurt as well. Mahariel turned to look down at him, surprised to see he was looking quite angry. The frown melted off of his face. He hadn’t meant to make Alistair angry, and the mention of the Dalish made the hurt he was feeling even worse.

“We do what we can to survive,” he told his friend. “Infighting will only prove to be our undoing…we cannot spend our time betraying each other.” He glanced to the ground at his feet, scratching at it with his boot. He felt badly for making Alistair angry.

The man said nothing as Mahariel turned with the shake of his head, returning to the woman with his poultices. As he finished handing over the poultices to the woman, having refused any sort of payment, Alistair came up behind him looking guilty.

“Look, Mahariel,” he started.

“What?” Mahariel asked, tilting his head. Alistair, as far as he knew, hadn’t done anything wrong. For a moment the man just stared at him, a frown on his face, but then he sighed and shook his head.

“Never mind, come on.” He shrugged, turning away from Mahariel and leading their small group away from the woman and the sick refugees.

~oOo~

It had taken quite a bit of convincing on Alistair’s part for Mahariel to even acknowledge the inn, let alone step into it. He had made it quite clear that he didn’t appreciate being near large groups of humans regularly, so being near a large group of intoxicated humans was _clearly_  worse. Morrigan had agreed with him, at least on that point.

“We need to see if we can pick up some food,” Alistair told them both desperately. “And information, if there is any.”

They’d found one merchant, a crotchety man who had been more intent on bleeding the refugees dry of possessions and coin than actually selling anything. They had taken what they could of his supplies, but he had possessed no food or anything with which they could set up a camp.

And, while it made sense that they may be able to acquire food or information at the inn, Mahariel was digging his heels in. As they’d approached the inn a pair of large, and rather drunk, men had pushed past him and he’d ended up on the ground, in mud rather. They’d walked off without a blink in his direction, muttering angrily about knife ears taking up too much space.

Despite Alistair trying to write the incident off as an accident, Mahariel had been sulking ever since. If this was what he had to look forward to in every shemlen city he didn’t want to go to any of them. He’d just sit outside the walls and whittle himself armies of stick knights.

He had down right refused to step foot in the Chantry for fear of directing his scent to the dread wolf. He knew that they couldn’t leave Lothering until they had some sort of provisions, but he was still hovering outside of the inn’s entrance listening to a pair of men who were gossiping fervently. They were going on about the same thing everyone else was talking about, how the Grey Wardens had apparently betrayed the king and had all died at Ostagar for their betrayal.

Mahariel glowered at the door, thinking that if there were more of these men in the inn he definitely did not want to be inside it. He threw a pleading look at Alistair. “Go without me?” he begged.

Morrigan pushed past them. “Honestly,” she said. “I think mother has left me in the hands of the two most useless Grey Wardens in all of Thedas.” She pushed the door open calmly.

Mahariel thought she may be right, but he followed her inside even though he sulked as he went.

There were quite a few people inside, mostly male, sitting at several tables and drinking. There was a great deal of noise for a building full of people who should have been running for their lives. Mahariel wondered how they planned to run when they couldn't walk straight, or if this was them giving in to their fate.

As he and Alistair entered behind Morrigan all eyes fell to them, and the entire inn fell silent. Mahariel felt a chill go up his spine, trying to overcome the urge to turn right around again and run.

“By order of the regent, halt!” came a voice from their right. At a table, pushing to their feet, was a group of six soldiers and a single man in slightly nicer armour than the rest, Mahariel assumed he was in charge.

“Why?” he asked, tone bored, as he frowned at the men, searching their faces to see if he recognised any of them. He didn't bother asking _what_ a regent was.

“Didn’t we spend all morning asking about an elf by this very description? And everyone said they hadn’t seen him?” One of the men came up alongside the man in charge, turning to glare at Mahariel.

“It seems we were lied to,” the man in charge growled. “Grey Wardens, I was at Ostagar when you betrayed us!”

Mahariel deadpanned, taking a long step forward and looking at the man as he spoke, “it was your shemlen commander Loghain who betrayed _us_.” He kept his expression blank, but his tone was dangerous.

“Traitorous knife ear!” the man cried, drawing his sword and holding it at the ready.

“Gentlemen, surely there has been a misunderstanding here. Let us not fight.” came a smooth, deep, female voice with a strange accent from their left. Mahariel didn’t move, keeping his gaze evenly on the man in front of him and his hands on the daggers at his hips.

“Sister, stay back from these Makerless fiends,” the man told the woman sternly.

“Perhaps they are not the Wardens that you seek,” the woman put in helpfully.

Mahariel cast a glance in the direction of the woman before staring squarely back at the men before him.

“They have already confessed to their crimes!” the man exclaimed, pointing his sword at the Mahariel.

Mahariel bared his teeth at him, pulling one of his daggers part way out of its sheath.

“No we haven’t!” Alistair snapped.

The woman had come up on Mahariel’s side now, her hands folded delicately in front of her. He could see her scarlet hair out of the corner of his eye, but he was focused on the man in front of him.

“There have been no ‘crimes’,” Mahariel snapped. “I would gladly fight any shem who would foolishly believe the words of a traitor over what his own eyes tell him.” His hands tensed on his hilts. The men in front of him readied their weapons again.

“Please,” the woman urged him gently. “There is no need for bloodshed here.” She laid a hand delicately on his arm. Mahariel tensed and recoiled, pulling away from her and drawing his daggers.

“This heathen would turn his blade on a sister of the Maker!” The man turned back to his men, rallying them and giving them the sign to attack.

Mahariel lunged forward, moving quickly down and around the man in front while Alistair engaged him with his shield. Morrigan froze three of the men without much movement and Mahariel lunged up to cut the throat of a man who had managed to jump out of the way of Morrigan’s spell.

He heard the sound of Alistair downing the other of the men as he tried to hold off the captain.

The woman who had been beside him stabbed at a man who had snuck behind him and Mahariel swung around to follow her movements and knock his head with the hilt of his dagger and he fell as well.

Mahariel didn’t stay around long enough to watch him fall, stepping back around and catching the man who Alistair had been engaged with around the back of the neck with his blade and pressing it to his throat.

“All right, you’ve won!” he gasped, dropping his blade to the ground as Alistair took a step back. “We surrender!”

“Good, they have learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now,” the sister said, coming up beside him. Morrigan snorted from back near the door.

“You are a coward!” Mahariel spat, shaking. He’d never had to actually fight _people_ before, he’d met a few who had wandered into the Dales, but never had to kill any of them. “Return to you _regent_ and tell him that we survived, and we know exactly what he did.”

The man nodded weakly, trying not to cut his throat on the blade still at his throat. Mahariel clenched his teeth and released the man, kicking at him as he sheathed his blades. He took a step back as Morrigan released the men she had frozen, one dropped to the floor, dead, and the other two lifted the man he’d knocked out and followed their captain out of the inn.

Mahariel looked up at his companions, only sparing the woman a glance out of the corner of his eye. He felt bad for having pulled his daggers on her when she had helped them, but he had been startled by her touching him. Alistair’s sword was covered in blood, Morrigan was completely unscathed. Alistair looked a bit disquieted, but he didn’t seem to be as upset as Mahariel was feeling.

There was a thick smell of blood in the air, and the rest of the patrons of the inn seemed to be completely shocked out of retaliation or even words.

He thought he may be sick. Without another word he stepped past his companions and pushed out of the door.

“Woah, woah, Mahariel where are you going?” Alistair followed, stopping a few feet behind him as he came to a stop on the muddy road.

He kicked at a clump of dirt, fighting the urge to vomit.

“What, are we leaving before actually buying any food?” Morrigan asked, coming to a stop just behind Alistair.

Mahariel’s shoulders shook. How were they supposed to complete this impossible task with every person thinking that they’d betrayed the king? He hadn’t wanted anything to do with shemlen to start with, and now he was wandering through their cities and being _attacked_ by them. He didn’t want to spend his time killing people, he hadn’t even wanted to kill darkspawn!

“I am very sorry for startling you.” The woman who had spoken to him before was at his side suddenly, startling him all over again.

This time, rather than drawing his daggers, he jumped to the side and looked up at her in surprise. She was a bit taller than he was, as were most average height humans, but for some reason he’d expected to take a good look at her and find her shorter than he was.

“Ah, and it seems I have done so again,” she added with a kind chuckle. Alistair found his way to Mahariel’s side as the woman settled her hands gently on her lap again. “My name is Leliana, I’m very pleased to finally meet you.”

Mahariel scowled, unsure why this “Leliana” was even following them, or what "finally" meant. He glanced away for a moment before replying, “Mahariel, Alistair, and Morrigan.” He gestured between each of them.

“ _Finally_ meet us?” Alistair asked, glancing at the disturbed elf beside him.

“I…” Leliana, seemingly forthcoming thus far, hesitated for a moment. “I believe the Maker sent me to you.”

“Oh goodie, now the Maker himself is aiding us in our quest?” Morrigan asked, stepping up behind Alistair. She clapped her hands as if she were excited, but though her tone was cruel and mocking.

“Sent?” Mahariel asked, tilting his head as he spoke. He did not like the idea of the Chantry god having anything to do with him.

“Yes, I had a dream…a vision, and I believe it meant for me to come with you,” Leliana explained, valiantly ignoring Morrigan and paying all her attention to Mahariel instead.

Mahariel rested his hands on his hilts as she spoke. He felt uncomfortable at the idea that this woman was acting on a dream to come with them. She wore a robe like the ones he’d seen on people outside the Chantry, and though she carried a knife and seemed able to use it he was unsure if she would be able to hold her own.

“We could use more crazy…” Alistair mumbled sarcastically. Mahariel turned to raise his eyebrows at him, he’d expected some support if this woman spoke of his Maker, but he did not seem at all enthused by Leliana’s explanations.

“We _could_ use the help,” Mahariel put in, though he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or Alistair. He glanced at Morrigan, hoping she wouldn’t make another snide comment.

“Perhaps your head was cracked worse than mother thought,” Morrigan said, shaking her head. “And how exactly is a chantry girl supposed to help us?”

Mahariel sighed, offering Leliana a look of apology before turning to face his companions sternly. “We have to travel across the land and you _both_ think we’ll be able to manage it with just the three of us?”

Alistair averted his gaze and shrugged his shoulders.

“You and I, perhaps. Alistair? Surely not,” Morrigan chimed in.

Mahariel rolled his eyes. She was wrong, Alistair was perfectly capable and _he_ was incapable of doing anything without his clan. A Dalish without his clan? It was practically a joke. He wouldn’t be able to make any journey, let alone an important one like the one that they were on. He’d never had to navigate a human road before.

“I promise you I can fight and take care of myself,” Leliana said from behind him. He turned back to her with an apologetic look on his face.

“I…I think if she wants to come with us, we should let her,” Mahariel told his companions, glancing over his shoulder at them. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Alistair shrugged.

Leliana smiled brilliantly, and Mahariel wondered if she was pretty for a human. “Thank you so much, I will prove to you that I will not make a burden of myself,” she said enthusiastically. "There is a Qunari on the outskirts of the village, he is being held there. I spoke to him briefly, it seems he has committed a murder of some kind an—“

“Just what we need, a murderer!” Alistair exclaimed, clearly having had enough of the conversation. He turned around and scrubbed his face with his gauntlets.

“No, I promise you, he will be helpful. Come with me and see him,” Leliana insisted, waving her hand in the direction she wished to take them.

Mahariel shrugged. He had no idea what a Qunari was, but if this woman wanted to prove her usefulness by introducing them to it he was alright with that. “We were headed in that direction anyways,” he stated. It was sort of a lie, they were supposed to be going in that direction once they’d got their provisions. Even so, he turned to follow Leliana in the direction she’d motioned in.

“We’re turning into a merry band of misfits, we are.” Alistair grumbled as he took up the rear.

“What…what is it?” Mahariel asked in wonder as they reached the large creature locked in a cage. Its back was to them, grey skin visible on its head, neck and hands. It wore leather clothing.

“He,” Leliana correctly gently, walking alongside the elf as Morrigan and Alistair followed. “He is a Qunari, from what he told the Revered Mother.”

Mahariel frowned. “You said he killed someone?” He looked up at Leliana with wide eyes. The creature simply towered over him, he could tell from where he was standing.

“Yes, a whole family,” she replied, nodding slowly.

Mahariel’s frown deepened. He’d started out thinking he would want to see this person who Leliana had suggested they add to their group, but now he wasn’t so sure. The creature looked like he could squish him. As they rounded to the front of the cage it became abundantly clear just how tall the creature was. He was short, he knew that, most human females were taller than him, and he was generally about the size of a female elf. This creature, this _Qunari_ towered over him, he felt as though he had shrunk when he craned his neck to see him.

The Qunari had turned its head to watch him as he’d moved around the cage. They each regarded the other thoughtfully for a moment. The Qunari's expression was unnerving, Mahariel thought he could feel his blood chilling from the cold look in its eyes. Though, he probably would have looked similar if he was stuck in a cage.

“Hello, I am Mahariel, pleased to meet you,” he said as cheerfully as he could as he came to a stop in front of the cage. Leliana, who had stopped just behind him, covered her mouth as if she were covering a smile or a laugh.

“An elf…you mock me,” the Qunari growled, or just spoke with a low voice, Mahariel couldn’t tell. He tilted his head curiously, studying the creature's face. “Or you use manners I have come not to expect in this land.”

Maharial smiled nervously and he drew closer to the cage. He understood what the Qunari meant, he had stopped expecting people to be courteous to him as well.

“Mahariel do you really want to be that close to a murderer?” Alistair asked him, having come to a stop behind Leliana and Morrigan.

“I like him.” Mahariel threw a grin over his shoulder before turning back to the Qunari. “Do you have a name?”

“I am Sten of the Beresaad, the vanguard of the Qunari people,” the Qunari, Sten, explained calmly.

Mahariel beamed up at him, having no idea what any of the words were, but accepting the greeting with a nod. He liked this creature, this man, he seemed courteous and respectful enough.

“This is a proud creature, Mahariel,” Morrigan said from behind him. “I say we release him, even if we cannot find a use for him.”

“Are you crazy?” Alistair moaned.

“He has been left to the darkspawn horde, it is a terrible fate,” Leliana put in. “Perhaps the Revered Mother would relinquish the key to his cage.”

Mahariel frowned, turning to look at Leliana with both anxiety and disbelief.

“He won’t go into the Chantry,” Morrigan explained wearily. “He fears his Dalish gods.”

Mahariel turned his back on the conversation and looked at the cage door with interest.

“Oh, but the Maker accepts all of his children,” Leliana replied lightheartedly.

“The ‘Maker’ accepts no one, he is naught but a tool created by the Chantry to—“

The conversation turned into a religious debate, which Mahariel promptly ignored. He reached for the lock on the door to the cage.

“Would you help us?” he asked, looking up at Sten as he reached into his pack.

“With what?” Sten asked, looking down at him with disinterest.

“I am a Grey Warden. We need to unite the land against the blight with elves, dwarfs, humans and the like. You could be 'the like' if you want.” Mahariel offered, tugging his lock picking kit out of his pack and pulling out the right picks for the lock. “Even if you won’t help us, I wouldn’t leave anyone in a cage to die to the darkspawn horde. I know you said you killed some people, but I don't think _anyone_ deserves to die to the taint.” He could still remember the feeling of the taint coursing through his veins, even the thought of it now made a shiver of discomfort run up his spine.

“An elf is a Grey Warden?” Sten asked, sounding disbelieving.

“Yeah, somehow,” Mahariel muttered, paying more attention to his task than the slight. “But you are about to be free.” As he spoke the lock clicked and he stepped back. The arguing behind him ceased.

“Mahariel did you just…” Alistair trailed off as Sten pushed the cage door open and took a step out. Mahariel took a step back to accommodate the cage opening as well as the large body exiting it.

“I will come with you,” Sten stated, looking over their group blankly.

Mahariel looked back up at the Qunari, taking another step back in surprise. “Really? Why?” he asked, eyes wide. He had not expected the Qunari to agree to come with them so readily, even if he had released him from the cage. Despite his wonder, Sten’s face remained calm.

“I have come to this land to answer a question for the Arishok,” Sten told him.

“What question?” Mahariel asked, having no idea what an Arishok was. Alistair stepped up behind him, seemingly intrigued by his line of questioning.

“What is the blight.” Sten told him, tone still blank.

Mahariel smiled, nodding enthusiastically. “Then you should travel with us, it would be the best way to answer that question.” He wasn't sure if he was so excited to have Sten with them simply because he was another non-human, or if it was because he was so different. “I know where we can find a sword and armour, I found some earlier.” He turned away from Sten and his group to head back towards the village again.

“If you are true Wardens…” Sten grumbled. “I should stay outside of the village, the villagers will not respond well to seeing me uncaged.”

Mahariel paused mid step, turning back to look at Sten with a serious look on his face. “Do you regret what you did?” he asked, unsure if he was being curious or if the answer was important to him.

“Yes,” Sten answered simply, looking him in the eye as he spoke. Mahariel believed him.

“Morrigan would you stay with Sten outside the village?” Mahariel asked. Morrigan looked pleased with herself, probably because she thought he had listened to her. “He needs to be well equipped before we leave.” He paused, watching as Morrigan looked over at Alistair with mild disgust. “I will take Alistair with me,” he added.

“Very well.” Morrigan nodded, raising an eyebrow and taking a step closer to the Qunari.

Alistair groaned and followed him, coming to a stop just out of hearing range of Sten and Morrigan. “Are we really leaving the apostate with the murderer?” he asked softly.

Mahariel looked up at him with his brows raised and a slight pout on his lips. “I thought you trusted me,” he mumbled, not letting Morrigan or Sten hear. Leliana hovered behind Alistair, having not been told to stay behind.

“I do, it’s just…”

“He can help us,” Mahariel insisted. “He is powerful and honest. I do not think he is a danger to us. I promise.”

Alistair sighed. “Very well.”


	4. How to Leave Lothering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group is waylayed by several different distractions as they attempt to leave Lothering and move on to their next destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CURRENTLY IN EDITING

Mahariel glanced behind himself shortly as they walked across the field away from Lothering. Alistair had kept close to him since the addition of Sten to their little band of... Well whatever you would call them. Leliana was walking alongside the Qunari chattering to him even though it was clear he was not listening. The large creature had his gaze trained ahead of them on the field, his stance guarded and always ready for combat. Morrigan was bringing up the rear, silent for once.

The feeling of a gauntlet on his shoulder brought Mahariel's attention back in front of him, halting suddenly as his hands automatically went to his daggers.

“Look.” Alistair warned, as Mahariel pulled roughly from his hold and unsheathed his daggers from the holsters on his hips.

The entire Lothering trip had just been one annoyance after another. Morrigan wouldn't stop arguing with Alistair, they'd gotten in a tussle with several of Loghain's lackeys in the inn, acquired a Chantry sister who clearly didn't have much going on upstairs, and when Mahariel had gone back to find Sten a sword Alistair had seen a guard he recognised from Redcliffe and dragged him into the Chantry even though he had protested.

He was frustrated enough, having anyone randomly touching him was almost too much- Except it quickly became clear that Alistair had good reason to be grabbing him.

In front of the group was a larger group of about ten humans. Mahariel heard Sten and Leliana stop behind them, and Sten pull his sword from it's sheathe.

“I heard wha' was said at the inn.” The man in the centre, wearing rags, stated lowly. Mahariel glared at him. “I know you're a warden.” He elaborated, nodding to his fellows as they each readied whatever piece of makeshift weaponry they had collected. “That bounty on your head could feed a lot of hungry men.”

“I helped you!” Mahariel protested, taking a firm step towards the group and balking slightly when they didn't flinch in the slightest.

“Wha'?” The man asked, his tone mocking, “A few health poultices, a dropped silver at the feet of some knife ears? I don't know if you really done killed King Cailan and I don't care! Attack!”

For a moment Mahariel was shocked frozen, the men came rushing forward and even as Alistair and Sten overtook him he stood still. How could they? He'd done everything he could and they'd turned on him any way.

He bared his teeth angrily as one man approached him with a pitch fork, attempting to stab at him. Nimbly turning around and away, Mahariel found himself behind the man, and stabbed him angrily in the back. Another man came up behind him, quickly finding an arrow from Leliana in his neck and a deep stab wound in his abdomen. He fell.

As Mahariel stabbed the last of the refugees in the eye, he looked up with a sharp glare at Alistair who was looking on from a few paces away and standing over two dead men. Mahariel had dropped five of the ten men with little help from Morrigan and Leliana, Alistair had reluctantly defended off two, Sten stood tugging his blade out of another man while two more lay dead at his feet.

“I told you.” Mahariel growled at Alistair who took a step towards him, and was stopped by the animosity in the elf's voice. “They are all shemlen, they ask for help, they _beg_ for help and when it is given they turn on you because they assume you have more. Land, money, people, they want _all_ of it. They do not help or ask for help out of need or good faith, they just take!”

Alistair, taken aback by Mahariel's sudden outburst and confused as to why it was aimed only at him, just watched as the elf angrily kicked at the dead man who's eye he had just stabbed through without a second thought.

“Mahariel.” Leliana's voice lilted from somewhere behind the two men, but was ignored as the angry elf began stomping away.

“They're not all like that Mahariel.” Alistair tried, calling after him and attempting to run and catch up to the quickly retreating elf.

“Not now Alistair.” Morrigan warned lowly, “He is learning a cruel truth, surely.” Alistair glared over his shoulder at Morrigan but the honesty in the woman's word quickly wiped it off his face. Turning back to follow Mahariel, he made sure his pace kept the elf in view, but didn't attempt to close the distance between them.

-  
  
Since Maharial had been the one running ahead it was inevitable that he would be the one to run into trouble first. He sensed them before he saw them, the first time he'd really felt them. His skin crawled and his brain fizzed as if someone had placed a carbonated beverage in it.

Over the sound of his thoughts he heard the cries for help and, relishing the idea to kill something which deserved it for once, Mahariel ran up the stone ramp onto the wall surrounding the outlying farms of Lothering. He came to a skidding stop, slipping slighty in the blood of a woman who was lying in front of the darkspawn.

“Vermin.” He snarled under his breath, rushing forward with his knives drawn into the small group. It was without much trouble that he cut down the first genlock to come into his view, but as he swung around to engage the one which was coming up behind him he was caught in the gut by the pommel of one of the hurlock's swords.

Winded and gasping for breath he fell to one knee, holding one arm above his head and lashing out at the knees of the genlock still incoming.  
Running into this alone had not been his best idea.

It was Morrigan who came to his aid first, apparently able to move up the ramp quicker than Alistair in his armour. She stood a few paces away and unleashed a Mind Blast which knocked both the genlock and the hurlock away, Mahariel far enough away that the magic only caused him to flinch.

Regaining his breath for the moment, Mahariel flourished to the side and plunged one dagger into the stomach of the genlock while Alistair came in and beheaded the fallen hurlock. An arrow flew into the forehead of the other hurlock and Sten roared as he beheaded the final genlock.

Mahariel panted softly and pushed himself to his feet, surprised when Alistair grabbed his arm to help him stand. As he looked up at the human he could tell there was clear anger hiding behind the veil of worry on his face.

“You stupid-”

“Mighty timely arrival there, my friends!” A jovial call came from the man who Mahariel had rushed to help. “I'm much obliged.” The grip on his arm released and Mahariel straightened himself properly to greet the two short men who were approaching.

“You're short.” Mahariel stated, his eyes widening slightly. He heard Leliana cover a giggle behind him. “Are you a dwarf? I've never seen one before.” His guard again let down in front of a creature he'd never seen before, Mahariel's curiosity escaped.

“Why, yes, yes I am. Me and my boy, Sandal, here were just heading off... Well. The name's Bodahn, merchant and entrepreneur, any chance we're heading in the same direction?” Mahariel blinked at the man's enthusiastic introduction. So many words had come out of his mouth so quickly, why was he so quick to speak to strangers?

As Mahariel turned to gesture to his companions to introduce them, the sight of the group all covered in blood that was not their own made him grit his teeth. He looked back to the dwarf, this “Bodahn” without introducing them. He wanted protection. He saw they could hold their own and wanted to tag along for protection.

“We're not headed in the same direction.” He stated coldly, not catching the surprise on Alistair's face at his tone. To his surprise Bodahn shrugged.

“Fair enough, but just let me say again how grateful we are for your help. Say goodbye my boy.”

“Bye.” Sandal said, a innocent smile on his face. Mahariel felt a tug at his heart, perhaps he should have let them come along. He couldn't tell how old the one Bodahn kept calling boy was. Maybe all dwarves looked like adults when they were children.

He was a step too late however, as Bodahn ushered his boy off to help him clean up their ruined caravan. Mahariel sighed softly, turning back to his companions to find Morrigan appraising him with an annoyed look on her face, and Alistair outright glowering at him. Leliana stood leaning against the wall watching him with a expression of sympathy, or pity. Sten was cleaning his sword on the wall opposite.

“I thought that he-”

“How could you go running off like that?” Alistair snapped, “You know how dangerous it is out here, you could have been killed!”

“He nearly was.” Morrigan replied, her tone silky smooth and dangerous. So they weren't mad at him for turning away the merchant, no of course not Morrigan wouldn't care about that.

Mahariel's hand went to his stomach, still aching from the blow of the sword, and he dropped his gaze to the stone beneath his feet.

“I-I'm sorry.” The air felt heavy for a moment, he waited for Leliana to chime in that they shouldn't be fighting or some other pacification, but none came. Nothing came. It was silent and as he dared look back up at his companion he found that Morrigan had moved to begin rummaging through the mage girl's pack and those of the darkspawn with Leliana in toe.

Sten watched on silently.

Alistair however was still looking at him, his expression blank and anger apparently disarmed by Mahariel's apology.

“You haven't really seen the best of humanity have you?” He asked, his voice cracking as if there were a weight upon it. Mahariel let his head droop, shaking it as his hair fell into his face. His braid, having come unpinned at some point during the fighting, hung loosely from his temple. Alistair sighed, “I just... I just don't want to lose you, you- you're all I have lef-... You're all the hope we have left of completing this task.”

There was such pain behind the knights words and Mahariel felt as if yet another weight had been heaved onto his shoulders. Alistair was grieving, he realised, and he felt a warmth bloom in his chest that the man had been genuinely concerned for him even as the leaden realisation that Alistair was clinging to anything he could settled on him.

“You could figure it out on your own, surely.” Mahariel offered, looking up to see the conflicted look on Alistair's face.

“What, me and Morrigan? We wouldn't make it halfway to Redcliffe.” Blunt humour appeared to be Alistair's way of hiding his pain once it became too much, and a way of saying he didn't want to talk about the subject at hand. Mahariel almost didn't acquiesce, seeing as Alistair had brought it up, but instead he let his tense shoulders droop slightly in defeat and started past Alistair, towards the rest of the group who had finished scavenging the dead bodies.

“I'm not going anywhere, Alistair, promise.” Mahariel assured quietly as he passed, missing the look of shock on the knight's face from having his name spoken by the elf by the first time.

-

As the group trudged along Lothering's city wall, Mahariel found his thoughts wandering back to his clan. The dwarves they had met on the wall had reminded him that there was more to the world than shemlen and Grey Warden's. He was alone without his clan, his keeper having sent him away. And though he was beginning to hear the regret in her voice when he brought up the memory, it hurt every time he did.

The Dalish rested a hand on one of his dagger hilts, thinking about how his clan had bade him farewell and how he'd only been able to whisper a goodbye to Tamlen before Duncan had torn him away from his only home. It felt like eternity was stretched before him and the goal was getting home, yet he knew there was very little chance he would ever be able to return to his clan. He glanced down at the ring on his hand, gaze resting there as his blindly continued to walk ahead of the group.

He did not know how long he walked without watching where he was going, but he was pulled violently from his moping as the sharp sound of metal hitting metal assaulted his ears. Coming to an abrupt stop, his head snapping up towards the sound, he found Alistair in front of him with his shield outstretched. An arrow, having bounced off of his shield, lay a few feet away.

“Darkspawn.” Alistair explained shortly, dropping his shield only slightly to get a look at the group of tainted creatures before them. Mahariel, having regained his grip on reality, pulled his knives from his sheathes and rushed ahead, noticing something moving in the bushes. He did not have time to ponder this, however, as he quickly reached the first genlock and stabbed at the creature's neck as it attempted to taunt him.

Sten arrived at his side moments later, engaging with a hurlock as Alistair smacked a genlock which had come up beside him out of the way. Offering the former Templar a nod of thanks, Mahariel rushed off to take out the archer who had originally attempted to shoot him. As he reached said archer a large dog came from just behind him, jumping on the genlock and knocking it to the ground, his teeth sinking into the creature's neck as they landed.

Mahariel froze, looking at the animal with confusion as the creature beneath it died. The dog, no, mabari, growled lowly in the genlock's face, though it was well dead. It nimbly stepped off of the creature, approaching Mahariel with what appeared to be a smile while it's tongue lolled out the side of it's mouth as it panted.

The others approached, clearly the battle had concluded while Mahariel was confounded by the sudden appearance of the animal.

“Is that a mabari?” Alistair asked simply, causing Mahariel to look up at him for a moment before his gaze fell back to the large black creature.

“I... I think it's the one I helped back at the camp.” The elf explained, still confused as the dog sat back on it's haunches and panted heavily.

“It's filthy.” Morrigan complained shortly, “Mangy creature...”

“He's not mangy!” Alistair protested, kneeling in front of it and offering his hand. The dog sniffed from where he sat and then shuffled closer to the knight.

“He has honour.” Sten offered, the first time he had spoken since they left Lothering, “He returns the deed which was done for him.” This, at least, was quite true. Mahariel looked down at the animal which was now waggling on his back as Alistair rubbed his stomach. He had been assured by the Keeper of Animals at Ostigar that mabari were intelligent, though he did not seem so now with his tongue lolling out his mouth and his stomach in the air.

“He's cute.” Leliana added, also kneeling beside him as Alistair ceased petting the animal's belly.

“I do not want a dog.” Mahariel muttered, he didn't want the responsibility. He didn't want yet something else to care about.

“He's still filthy.” Morrigan offered, apparently trying to help.

“It seems like he's imprinted on you, Mahariel.” Alistair explained as he rose to his feet, “He's a war dog, he should be able to take care of himself.” The knight had apparently sensed his trepidation towards the responsibility. Mahariel frowned at the man, his nose wrinkling slightly as the smell of the dead or dying darkspawn began to assault him. He turned to the dead genlock which had been forgotten a few feet away, catching the dog watching him expectantly out of the corner of his eye.

“Let's just go.” He nodded shortly to the dog and began to walk. The dog, which barked happily, began to follow him at his heels. He heard the sound of Alistair's armour clinking as his companions began walking again.

“Aren't you going to name him?” The man asked, talking over the beginning of Morrigan protesting.

“Oh I can think of some names.” Leliana chimed. Mahariel looked over his shoulder at the dog who was following him so intently. He swallowed stiffly, glancing up at Alistair as the man came into step with him before his gaze dropped back to the dog who was now on his other side.

“Tamlen. I'm calling him Tamlen.” His heart ached. The dog leaned against him slightly as if he felt it too.


	5. Nightmares and Gifts and Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel has a nightmare so Alistair takes the chance to embue some wisdom on him regarding the Grey Wardens. It either backfires or doesn't, and neither of them are really sure which it is.

Mahariel jumped awake, sitting up and panting harshly as the feeling of the dream- No nightmare, shed away. The dragon... The archdemon? He let his head fall between his knees, his elbows resting upon them as he breathed heavily and tried to calm himself down.

The camp was silent, and Mahariel knew that everyone had gone to sleep for the night. Morrigan had made her own makeshift shelter in the crook of some rocks, Leliana had set up her tent not too far back from the fire, and Sten had simply lain upon the ground and slept as if his skin were made of rock and he felt no cold.

As Mahariel looked up Sten was gone, but Alistair sat by the fire in his place. He was watching, and Mahariel felt his cheeks flare with embarrassment and anger at the thought of being seen in such a weak position.

“Bad dreams, huh?” Alistair asked, his tone soothing. Mahariel bit his lip and looked away, glaring into the flames.

“No.” He denied softly. He'd been avoiding Alistair since they'd come to make camp the evening before. Feeling put on for having to keep the dog, though the animal had been affectionate to him so far, and upset for the altercations they'd had both in the fields of Lothering and on the wall.

“It's part of being a Grey Warden you know.” Alistair pressed, “Hearing the darkspawn, feeling them. When they archdemon talks to them, we feel it too.” The elf huffed. He didn't want to hear any darkspawn. He didn't want to feel them. He certainly didn't want to hear the archdemon talking to him. The thought terrified him. What if one day the archdemon sensed _him_? It was just a dream.

He looked back at Alistair, eyes wide and fearful. Alistair's gaze didn't leave him. “It... It felt so real... It's not... I won't have them all the time right?” He so wanted it to be a dream.

“It was real, sort of.” Alistair replied, giving no aid to Mahariel's frantic mind, “It will take a while, but you can learn to block it out.”

A while. Mahariel huffed again, pushing himself to his feet and moving to sit a bit closer to the fire, and to Alistair subsequently.

“It was scary at first for me, too.” Mahariel shook his head at Alistair's confession.

“I'm... I'm not...” With a glance away from the fire to the other Grey Warden he realised Alistair wasn't going to accept his lie, no matter _how_ bold faced he had planned to make it. He he faced back to the fire and clenched his fist into the dirt, squeezing it as if it would help. “Thank you, Alistair.”

“That's what I'm here for, to deliver bad news an-” Alistair looked up as Mahariel pushed himself from the ground roughly and began to walk back to his bedroll, “Hey, where are you going?” He asked, as Mahariel knelt down and began rummaging through his pack.

“I found this.” Was the only answer Mahariel gave, before straightening again and wandering back towards Alistair. This time he sat much closer to the man, kneeling, facing him and holding out a golden statuette with an outstretched arm. "Do you want it?"

“ _What?_ Well... I suppose so?” Alistair reached forward and took the statuette from the elf, looking it over once it was safely in his grip. It was heavy, but not too heavy, probably only plated with gold or something golden in colour, “Wait a minute... Where did you get this?” Alistair asked suspiciously, looking up at his elven companion who was now observing him with wide eyes and wonder. He was taken aback momentarily, surprised by how open Mahariel's expression was.

“Found it.” Mahariel answered, leaning back on his toes and tilting his head, “It was shiny, and since Morrigan likes shiny things I thought you might like it. It's not a necklace.” Alistair looked back at the statuette in his hands as Mahariel also inspected it from his short distance. There was a smile on his face that Alistair hadn't seen before.

So the elf had decided that humans liked shiny things. Alistair felt a smile coming to his face in spite of himself, a chuckle bubbling in his chest. Mahariel's smile wilted slightly, apparently fearing he was being laughed at... Which he was, sort of. Almost automatically, Alistair reached out with his free hand and plopped his hand right on top of the elf's head, leaving it there for a moment before he realised what he was doing and pulled it away defensively.

To his surprise, rather than retaliating, Mahariel just looked up at his own forehead as if expecting to find something there, and then simply rearranged his hair. The elf shuffled slightly so he was sitting well on his rump again, and faced the fire, though he watched Alistair rather than looking into the flames.

“It's not a necklace.” Alistair finally agreed, watching Mahariel's expression, “I like it just fine, but before I accept it you have to tell me _where_ you found it.” He chided.

“Crates on the side of Lothering's wall. Bodahn left it.” Mahariel explained glancing back to where Bodahn and Sandal were with their caravan, having met up a few hours after setting up camp, “If you don't want it I-” Alistair put his hand up to silence him, and Mahariel fell silent immediately.

“I'll keep it.” Alistair stated, letting the statuette rest in his lap.

It was the middle of the night, the elf had suddenly bestowed a gift upon him, and was acting far more personable than he had thus far. For a moment Alistair wondered if elves just behaved differently at night. Mahariel, having always been early to sleep and to rise, had never spoken to any of his companions at night before.

They sat in silence for a while, the elf's mabari wandered over and lay down beside him, resting his great head on the elf's knee and almost dwarfing the elf in the process. Alistair watched as he pet the dog silently, the only sound was the crack of the fire and night creatures outside the camp.

“I'm sorry... About Duncan.” The elf's voice was so soft that, for a moment, Alistair wanted to ignore him in favour of floating on the edge of the pain the statement brought rather than dive in. There was no such luck however, as Mahariel continued, “I was so angry at being forced from my clan that I didn't notice that you... I didn't like him at all... I resented him...”

Alistair bristled, his stomach churning and heart squeezing at Mahariel's words. He didn't want to hear him, he didn't want to hear any of it.

“But he was a very good man, and took good care of me just like you're trying to do.” Mahariel took a shaky breath and rested his chin on his hands as he stared into the fire, “He could have left me to die, and he didn't. He could have left my whole clan to die, and he didn't.”

“Duncan was... A good man.” Alistair echoed, all his heart would let him do at the moment. He listened numbly to what Mahariel was saying, but couldn't bring himself to properly carry the conversation. Mercifully, the elf let it drop.

The next time the elf spoke it was preceded by him flopping onto his back and wresting his head back on his folded arms, “So you were raised by Arl Eamon?” Alistair offered what he was sure was a shaky smile back at the elf.

“Did I say that? I meant dogs, wild dogs from the Anderfels.” He quipped, feeling the air lighten just from the change of subject.

“Oh... That must have been hard on them.” Mahariel sounded like he believed him, he'd probably be in big trouble if the elf actually did, but as he turned back to his companion he noted the slightly raised eyebrow.

“Well, they were flying dogs, you see.”

“Flying?” Mahariel asked, his tone disbelieving and his mabari covering it's nose and whining as if it were hearing a bad joke.

“Yeah, strict parents, too, and devout Andrastians, to boot.”

“Well that is what they say about... An... Anderf...” Mahariel had no idea what an Anders was, but Alistair felt himself continuing despite that, desperately trying to outrun their earlier conversation.

“And they make a lot of cheese, funny though, the dogs never mentioned cheese. And if you mentioned it to them, they'd start growling.” When Alistair looked back this time Mahariel's brow was knit tightly as if he was actually trying to figure out if Alistair were lying, his hand absently patting his dog's head. “Or did I dream all of that?”

“Alistair.” Mahariel's tone was low, and his earlier cheeriness seemed to have left. Not that Alistair could blame him, but he resented that the elf was trying to push the truth out of him.

“How do I explain this... I'm a bastard, and before you say anything-”

“What's a-”

“The fatherless kin... Oh. What?” Alistair shifted now, facing Mahariel completely and noticing that the confusion hadn't left the elf's face.

“I've heard shemlen call each other bastard... Not call themselves it.” Mahariel tilted his head, though he was still lying on the ground and Alistair felt a bloom of affection of the elf. Damn him and his knowledge of nothing and everything.

“My mother was a maid at Redcliffe castle,” Alistair began, realising he'd have to explain this properly or risk confusing Mahariel completely, “She died when I was young and Arl Eamon took me in. He was good to me.” Mahariel pursed his lips slightly, moving them to one side of his face as if it was helping his brain work.

“But you told me before that you were a Templar at the Chantry.” He protested, clearly wondering if he was being led on another tall tale, “Was Arl Eamon your father? Do you know who is your father?”

All those questions... At least the subject matter had firmly changed. Alistair shifted backwards so he wouldn't have to keep turning to view the elf and made sure to keep eye contact with him to try and tell him he wasn't lying.

“Arl Eamon married a woman from Orlais, the arlessa didn't... Appreciate my presence at the castle and insisted I be sent to the Chantry. I respect Arl Eamon,” He added quickly as Mahariel's expression turned dark, “I don't blame him anymore for sending me there, once I was old enough.”

There was a pause for a moment, where Mahariel looked like Alistair's statement had just cooked up about a dozen more questions for him, but the he remained quiet as he waited for the others to be answered.

“I know who I was told was my father, but he died long before even my mother. The arl isn't my father, but there were plenty of rumours pegging me as such- The arlessa resented them and therefore me. So, I was packed off to the nearest monastery at age ten.” Mahariel's frown deepened more at this statement, no matter how light Alistair's tone had been.

“You were just a child though.”

“You can't really blame her, I threatened her position as arlessa and-”

“I don't care about that.” Mahariel bit back sharply, causing Alistair to throw and incredulous look at him. For a moment Mahariel looked surprised at himself, and then he looked apologetic, but didn't say anything more. Alistair continued.

“I remember, I had an amulet. The only thing I had of my mother's and I was so furious at being sent away that I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it... It shattered. The arl came by the monastery a few times, but I was stubborn, and angry, and I blamed him for everything I hated about the place. Eventually he stopped coming...” Alistair sighed, resting an arm on his knee and letting his head drop forward slightly. Mahariel was silent beside him, all that was between them was their breathing.

“I had a bow from my father, my mother had carved pretty designs into the limbs.” Mahariel started suddenly, causing Alistair to look up at him out of the corner of his eye, “I used it every day and I hunted... Everything with it, rabbits and deer, even wolves.” There was another short pause as Mahariel took a shaking breath, “It snapped in half one day as I was out hunting with the other children. I was so angry that the Lord of Tricksters had broken it that I... I snapped it further beneath my foot and threw it into the river.” Mahariel sighed before adding, “You were young too.”

“And raised by dogs.” Alistair piped, hoping to ease the tension again. Mahariel looked up at him from the ground, a forced, tiny smile pulling at his lips.

“We'll go to Redcliffe first then.” Mahariel muttered, and Alistair spluttered.

“You... You wha- You hadn't decided yet? You told me...” He trailed off as he watched Mahariel turn to the stars. The elf sighed heavily.

“I don't want to be leader, either.” He admitted. Alistair sighed as well.

“I know.”

 


	6. Redcliffe Village

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group heads to Redcliffe.
> 
> Mahariel gets a little testy at breakfast, which leads to a conversation with Leliana. 
> 
> Alistair admits something he's been hiding from the group to Mahariel, but in doing so makes the elf upset. They come to blows in the chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No I don't know why Alistair keeps narrating, apparently when Mahariel doesn't feel like sharing his brain I divert to Alistair.

“Augh! Why you little...”

Mahariel looked up from his place by the fire, where he'd been spooning his breakfast into his mouth. Swivelling around on his overturned stump, he found Alistair crouched behind him a few paces in front of his dog- Tamlen.

Mahariel stood up, placing his plate on his stump, and offering Leliana an apologetic look before wandering over as Alistair stood up and fixed a pitiful look on him.

“What?” The elf asked, frowning down at Tamlen for a moment before Alistair spoke.

“Your furry friend here took offense at me getting near his food! He snapped at me, _look_.” Alistair held a fully leather gloved hand out to show Mahariel, absolutely no damage was done to it.

“You're wearing gloves.” Mahariel stated, glancing down at his dog who panted at him innocently. “Why were you touching his food anyways?”

“I, _well_...” Mahariel settled a sarcastic look on Alistair, who quirked an odd grin at him.

“His food's no better than yours.” Mahariel didn't wait for the knight's protests, he looked back down at his dog, “Don't bite our... Friends... Or our other companions.” He chided. The dog dropped his head and whined softly.

“Sometimes I forget he's a wardog,” Alistair sighed, “That'll teach me.” He frowned down at Tamlen for a moment before wandering back to the fire. Mahariel followed.

“I would have bitten you too if you tried to eat my food, and I'm not a wardog.” Mahariel admitted, sitting back at his spot after picking up his plate again.

“I thought we weren't supposed to bite friends, or companions.” Alistair threw back lamely, picking up his own plate and sitting on the ground.

“No, that's just the dog.” Mahariel explained, Leliana giggled from the other side of the fire.

“Do you not like the food, Alistair?” Leliana asked, her plate sat empty beside her on the ground, she also sat on an over turned stump.

“I'm not like you two,” Alistair complained, “I don't like random leafs and unidentifiable meats caught in the forest.” Mahariel frowned.

“They're spices and deer.”

“Unidentifiable meats.” Alistair insisted, Leliana giggled again.

They'd been on the road for three days straight and despite not being able to pick up food at Lothering, Mahariel had managed to keep the group well fed with his hunting knowledge, and Morrigan had helped Mahariel identify several edible plants.

As far as Mahariel could tell, Alistair was just throwing a fit over it for the sake of throwing a fit.

“The dog eats dead rats and rabbits. Raw.” Mahariel stretched his arms above his head, his plate balanced on his lap as he spoke, “I don't suppose you'd actually prefer those?”

“I certainly wouldn't.” Leliana put in. Mahariel smiled at her from across the fire, Alistair grumbled to himself.

It was almost time to pack up, Morrigan was destroying her little hut across the way, and Sten had disappeared in the wee hours as usual. Bodahn and Sandal were hitching up the pack mule which Mahariel had... Obtained a few days earlier from some bandits he'd found in the forest.

“Why do you never call Tamlen by his name?” Leliana asked suddenly, causing Mahariel to flinch and almost tip his plate onto the ground, “Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you... I do seem to do that a lot.” Mahariel shook his head to dismiss her, scooping the rest of his breakfast into his mouth and hoping that by the time he was done the subject would change for be forgotten.

No such luck apparently. As he looked up from his lap he found that not only Leliana was looking at him, but Alistair was appraising him thoughtfully as well.

“He's a dog.” Mahariel offered, leaving out that he'd named said dog in a moment of weakness and now every time someone spoke it's apparent name or he thought of it his heart yanked at him painfully, “He doesn't need a name.”

“Oh, I don't think so.” Leliana shook her head.

“I thought we've been over this Mahariel, he's a smart dog.” Alistair added.

“Then he knows his name and he doesn't need me to say it for him every time I speak of or to him.”

“I don't call you “the elf”.” Alistair replied evenly.

“I'll start calling you all “the shemlen” if you do.” Mahariel snapped, noting how his tone brought a look of shock out of both Alistair and Leliana.

There was a moment of awkward silence as Mahariel's gaze flitted nervously from Alistair to Leliana, in which Leliana perceived him sympathetically and Alistair frowned at him.

“Well, it is not important.” Leliana finally conceded, standing from her stump and picking up her plate, “Let us get ready to leave.”

Alistair stood and moved as if he was going to approach Mahariel, who jumped up far quicker and rushed away from the fire ring.

“I'm going to get water for the dishes.” He called over his shoulder.

Alistair stood looking confused with his arm outstretched as if he'd been about to grab the elf, Mahariel disappeared into the trees.

 

~oOo~

 

The road rose slightly as they got closer to Redcliffe Village. Mahariel could almost see across the lake, he could certainly see the tower rising up from it from here. The road was quiet, which alerted the elf that something was not quite right. His clan had come into contact with human roads on occasion and whenever they neared a large or well populated place the roads always became busy as couriers and merchants alike converged in one direction.

The most pressing matter, however, was that neither Alistair nor Leliana had spoken to him since that morning- It was making him very uneasy. Even Morrigan had commented on Leliana's silence, though she usually preferred to ignore the sister's presence.

The elf sighed, trudging up towards the front of the group where Leliana was walking. Alistair was leading the way for once, Mahariel having admitted a few days earlier that he had no idea how the roads worked, Morrigan and Sten brought up the rear. Mahariel didn't like how spread out their group was at that moment, but nothing could really be done.

Mahariel reached into his waist bag, pulling out a shiny circle with lines in it which he'd decided looked like the sun. “Here.” He thrust the circle in front of her, causing her to stop abruptly and look up at him in surprise. “Here.” He insisted pressing it lightly into her hands, which she'd brought up when he stopped her.

The sister tilted her head slightly, but took the circle into her hands and inspected it for a moment, her expression neutral. A kind smile broke on to her face.

“Do you know what this is?” She asked, and started walking again as she looked down at it. Mahariel began to walk as well.

“An amulet of some kind, it's shiny.” Mahariel explained, swearing he heard Alistair snort in front of them. Leliana chuckled softly.

“Yes, it is that.” She held it to her chest, “It's the symbol of Andraste... Is this for me?” She asked, smiling at him now. Mahariel nodded.

“I found it, and...” He swore he heard Alistair actually chuckling now and he glared into the back of the man's armour. He felt a hand rest softly on his arm and he turned back to Leliana.

“It is a lovely gift, thank you.” She smiled at him.

Mahariel smiled back at her, feeling less wound up now that she was speaking to him again. He liked her accent, he decided. He also liked how she didn't ask him constantly where he had found things.

Apologising while giving things to humans seemed to work well, giving shiny things to humans seemed to work very well. He wondered if humans were part magpie.

 

~oOo~

 

The couple fell into comfortable chatter as they made their way up the rest of the road to Redcliffe, leaving Bodahn and Sandal just outside the village.

They continued easily, without any obstruction, until just before the bridge which led into the heart of the village. Alistair's pace had dropped as they entered the village, and now he stopped abruptly. Out of habit Mahariel's hands flew to his daggers and he stopped dead, assuming the man had seen something dangerous. Instead, Alistair turned around and offered the elf a weak grin, which quickly melted off of his face.

“Look, can we talk for a moment? I need to tell you something I, ah-”

“Oh yes, let us set up camp here and enjoy ourselves a little picnic.” Morrigan interrupted. Mahariel glanced over his shoulder at her, nodded apologetically to Leliana and took a few steps closer to Alistair. He held up his hand for the group to wait and he dropped his voice.

“What is it?” He asked, Alistair motioned to the side and walked a few paces away, Mahariel followed and they both looked over the edge of the river which rushed loudly in front of them.

“I probably should have told you earlier,” Alistair began, and Mahariel found himself confused.

“You told me lots of stuff earlier, Alistair. Did you forget something?”

“Well, ah... No, no I deliberately left this one out.”

“Why?” Mahariel's tone was laced with hurt amongst the confusion and both men found their chests clenching slightly. The “I thought you were my friend” lay unspoken, but the look on Mahariel's face said it all. His eyes were wide, large as they were already, and he glanced back at his other companions as if imagining what they were hiding from him as well.

“You remember how I told you that Arl Eamon raised me, right?” Alistair asked, forging on ahead because he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't keep this from the elf any longer. The kicked puppy look that Mahariel gave him made his stomach clench.

Of course he remembered, he seemed to remember everything.

“He did that because... Because my father was King Maric.” Mahariel frowned slightly, but seemed to follow, “Which made Cailan my... My half-brother, I suppose.” Alistair added, watching as Mahariel's lower lip poked out slightly. He could see the pout for only a moment before the elf fixed his gaze on the waterwheel across the way and his expression became stony- Much like it had been when they'd first met.

“You could have told me that before.” Mahariel muttered, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger as he stared out into the water as it poured from the wheel. Alistair wondered if Mahariel was considering stabbing him, he wasn't, he was just feeling defensive now.

“I... I would have told you.” Alistair offered, “But it never meant anything before. It was inconvenient- I was inconvenient. I was a threat to King Cailan and his rule, and everyone who knew either resented me for it or coddled me. Even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of it.” Mahariel tensed at the mention of Duncan, huffing softly and glaring at Alistair out of the corner of his eye for a moment before returning his gaze to the water.

The silence stretched and Alistair wondered if Mahariel was going to stalk off or Morrigan was going to come swooping in with a sarcastic comment. The worst part was that none of it happened. Mahariel stood silently, his brow slightly furrowed, completely cut off, and Alistair wondered if he'd just lost his tentative title as “friend”. He'd felt so lucky when the elf had called him that earlier, and now he felt himself glancing nervously back at the group who was watching them so closely. No one moved, however, as they waited for Mahariel's indication to do so.

“I just... Didn't want you to know.” Alistair admitted, as if it would help at this point, “I'm sorry.”

There was more silence as his apology fell on apparently deaf ears. After a moment Mahariel sighed and turned to him again, his expression stony.

“Does Loghain know?” The elf asked, tone even.

“Why wouldn't he? He was King Maric's best friend. I never thought any of this would be important...” A look of trepidation flashed on Mahariel's face, “At any rate, that's all I wanted to tell you. I had to tell you. I thought you should know about it.”

Mahariel shrugged, a clear contrast to all his interest a few nights prior.

“Doesn't change anything.” He replied, “We fight the darkspawn, we kill Loghain, we end the blight. Why do I need to know whether you're related to Cailan or not.” There was no question, it was much more of a statement and Alistair wondered if that was because the Dalish didn't quite understand how lineage worked, or if he genuinely didn't care anymore.

“It'll come up.” Alistair warned, trying to lighten his tone, “And I didn't want you walking into Redcliffe without knowing the truth- That would just be... Awkward. Besides, I know I'm just a commoner- Now a Grey Warden, I'm in no way inline for the throne.” There was still no reaction, and Alistair swallowed nervously. “Now we can move on, and I'll pretend you think I'm still some... Some nobody who was too lucky to die with the rest of the Grey Wardens.”

He turned abruptly to walk away, half meaning the last statement as a joke, but he felt a small hand encircle his arm and he stopped to look back at the elf, whose face was no longer guarded and now looked like he'd just been told the worst news of his life.

“You... You don't _really_ think that do you? B-Because I...” Mahariel sounded panicked and as Alistair glanced up to make sure the rest of their companions weren't heading over he caught Morrigan readying her staff.

“No... No I suppose not, I don't feel very lucky at all, to be honest.” He couldn't take the look on Mahariel's face anymore, he really looked like he thought Alistair had kicked him. The grip fell from his arm and Alistair pulled away, heading across the bridge ahead of the others. After a few moments he heard the tell tale sounds of the others following him across.

As he crossed however, he noticed a man standing on the other side- Wearing peasant's clothes and with a quiver and bow strapped to his back.

“I thought I saw travellers, though I scarcely believed it.” The man admitted suddenly, bringing Alistair to a stop before him. “Have you come to help us?”

For a moment Alistair just looked at him as if he'd gone squirrelly, he glanced back expecting Mahariel to come up and carry the conversation, but the elf's head was hung low and he couldn't even get eye contact from him. He turned back to the man.

“We are here to see Arl Eamon.” He explained, “What sort of help do you need?”

“We don't have time for errands and small folk Alistair.” Morrigan piped in, having apparently come to stand directly behind him as he spoke. The man offered Morrigan a confused look before turning back to Alistair.

“So you... Don't know? Has nobody out there heard?”

“We've heard Arl Eamon is sick, if that's what you mean.” Alistair said, he heard Sten shuffle impatiently behind him.

“He could be dead for all we know!” The man cried, “No one has heard from the castle in days! Evil comes out of the castle at night and... Attacks. We've all been fighting, and dying.”

“It seems everyone thinks that a blight is the perfect opportunity to come out and start killing each other, it's wonderful really.” Alistair couldn't tell if Morrigan was being sarcastic or not.

“Now wait a minute,” He cut in, “What sort of evil is this?”

“I don't rightly know. All I know is it comes every night, we have been trying to reach the castle but no one's been able. The only thing keeping us together is Bann Teagan.” It was at this moment when Mahariel finally cut in, pushing around Alistair's side and looking up at the man.

“Can you take us to this Bann Teagan?” He asked, and the man nodded.

“Yes... Yes I think he should like to see you.” The man said, turning to lead them across the bridge and down into the village. Their group followed, with Mahariel thankfully leading again.

 

~oOo~

 

As they entered the chantry Alistair was affronted by just how much damage appeared to have been done to the village. Most of the remaining villagers were holed up in the chantry, the rest appeared to be outside training. He watched Mahariel's shoulders tense as they passed a young child attempting to aide an old woman.

As they approached the alter his gaze set upon a man with strawberry blonde hair and nobleman's attire.

Bann Teagan.

“It's... Tomas, yes?” The Bann asked their guide as they approached, “And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travellers.” Alistair pushed up in front of Mahariel, hoping to spark the man's memory- Though it was clear he was exhausted and not feeling very observant.

“No my lord, they have just arrived and I thought you would want to see them.” Their guide explained.

“Well done Tomas.” The Bann praised, “Welcome, friends, my name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother to the arl.” The man's greeting was welcoming and warm for all the village was in crisis. Alistair recognised it easily.

“I remember you, Bann Teagan. Though... The last time we met I was a lot younger and... Covered in mud.” Alistair nodded to the man, who laid eyes on him for what seemed to be the first time.

“Covered in mud?” The man asked, as a grin grew on to his face, “Alistair? It is you isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!”

“Still alive, yes.” He paused for less than a second, but he thought he felt something hit him on the back of his armour, “Though, not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it.” He didn't notice the almost disappointment which had crept into his tone.

“ _Indeed_.” Teagan agreed, “Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things.” Alistair heard Mahariel distinctly huff from directly behind him. Had the elf hit him? The thought was extinguished as the elf came around him, looking up at the Bann and addressing him fearlessly.

“Not _all_ of us died.” He stated, his tone sharp and his eyes darting in Alistair's direction as if the words were for him and not Teagan.

“So you are a Grey Warden as well?” Teagan asked, apparently missing the tone of Mahariel's words, “A pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Yes. We heard we would not be able to see Arl Eamon.” Leliana piped up from somewhere behind them.

“You are here to see my brother?” Teagan appraised the group, his gaze settling on Sten for a moment before continuing, “I'm afraid that is not possible, my brother is gravely ill. No one has heard from the castle in days, no guards patrol the walls, and no one has answered to my shouts.” The man explained, the worry showing in his tone and expression.

Mahariel shifted uncomfortably from one foot to his other.

“The attacks started a few nights ago. Evil... Things... Surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished during the assault.”

“Darkspawn?” Mahariel enquired, receiving a look of sympathy from the Bann as if he were simple, though only for a moment.

“No, worse. Some call them the walking dead; decomposing corpses returning to life. They struck again the next night. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my calls for help. Each night they come with greater numbers, and I fear tonight will be the worst yet.” Now Teagan turned to Alistair, “Alistair I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends.”

Mahariel crossed his arms in front of Alistair, but rather than protesting to being spoken over he turned to see what Alistair would say. Alistair shook his head slightly, feeling terrible for what he had to say.

“It isn't just up to me. Though the Grey Wardens don't stand much of a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon.” A good chunk of his sentence was meant for Mahariel, who looked at him blank faced for a moment before turning back to Teagan.

“We'll help.” Mahariel said, though his uncertainty showed through in his tone. Both Grey Wardens thought of the battle in Lothering again as he agreed.

“How pointless to help these villagers fight an impossible battle, one would think we have enough to content with elsewhere.” Morrigan put in, and while Alistair bristled, Mahariel's reaction was much stronger. He swung around to glare at her.

“Shall we leave both the entire village and the man who can help us to die?” He snapped, “Let us just forget about the treaties and charge into battle the five of us, shall we?” Clearly agreeing to help had set the elf on edge. Morrigan glowered at him but said nothing, apparently done with the subject or at least done with Mahariel.

“Thank... Thank you.” Teagan put in, causing Mahariel to turn back to him, “This means more to me than you can guess.” The elf shrugged. Teagan turned back to Tomas, “Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired, then return to your post.”

The man muttered his affirmation and left their group, Mahariel watched him go for a moment before turning back to Teagan.

“How can we help?” He asked.

“I have put two men in charge of the defence outside. Murdock, the village mayor is outside the chantry. Ser Perth, one Arl Eamon's knights is just up the cliff at the windmill watching the castle.” Teagan explained, and Mahariel nodded.

“We passed them as we came into the village.” The elf agreed.

“You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle.” Teagan added, and the elf nodded again.

“Alright, we shall do so.”

“Very well, luck be with you my friend.” With this Mahariel turned away from the man and took a few paces away from him. He looked up at Sten.

“Sten I would like you to discuss the battle with Murdock.” Sten looked down at him sternly as he spoke, though his expression betrayed no specific thought.

“What would you have me discuss?” He asked, tone low yet uninterested as always. Mahariel didn't flinch, clearly unaffected by the man's disinterest.

“You certainly have better ideas of strategies than some shem who's never been in proper battle.” Mahariel replied, tone aloof. For some reason this seemed to work on the Qunari, and he simply nodded and headed to the entrance of the chantry. “Morrigan if you'd rather not help with our impossible battle, you should go back to Bodahn and Sandal.” Mahariel added, watching as the woman's expression darkened again.

“I will do nothing of the sort.” She replied coldly. Mahariel shrugged and then turned to Leliana.

“Leliana can you... Help some of the people here?” The elf asked cautiously, afraid to leave any of his companions alone with any group of humans.

“It would be my pleasure, but I will insist on defending the village later on.” Leliana smiled kindly at him, to which he nodded and watched her wander off to help.

“Dog...” He looked down at the dog who was sitting patiently at his feet, “T... Tamlen. If Morrigan won't return to Bodahn and Sandal, can you?” He asked, watching as the dog's tail wagged. He heard Morrigan scoff, “They will need protection of some sort.” He added, glaring up at Morrigan for a moment before nodding back down to Tamlen, who barked once, ran in a circle and then rushed to the front of the chantry where a surprised sister opened the door for him.

Now he looked up at Alistair. Finally, Alistair thought. Except all he did was stare at him with a look of hurt on his face for a short moment before he started walking away.

“Woah, woah hold up.” Alistair protested, quickly catching up and gripping the elf's shoulder, only to be shaken off. Mahariel didn't turn around. Morrigan scoffed again, this time walking smoothly past them.

“I will wait outside while you two... Sort this out.” She called over her shoulder, leaving Alistair to look at Mahariel's back.

“What do you want.” The elf asked finally, not turning to face the other Grey Warden.

Oh, Alistair didn't like this. For all the elf was a good half a foot shorter than him he was rather intimidating when he wanted to be. It almost seemed more safe to be able to see his facial expression than not being able to see it.

“About earlier-” Alistair began, but to his surprise Mahariel turned around and glared at him.

“What? About how you're the king's brother, or about how you wish you'd fallen on your sword and left me to do this all alone?” Mahariel snapped lowly, Alistair's stomach clenched, “Oh, sorry, “died with _the rest of_ the Grey Wardens”.” Mahariel's earlier statement of how not all the Grey Wardens had died came back to Alistair now and he sighed softly before shaking his head.

“That's not what I meant.” Surely Mahariel, who hadn't admitted his Grey Warden status to anyone out loud up until this point didn't care that he'd been left out in one statement?

“No. You meant you were being a stupid, selfish, _shemlen_ who can't think of anyone other than himself.” Alistair felt anger bubble inside him at the name.

“Now look here yo-” His mouth snapped shut again as the elf looked up at him with brows knitted together and eyes wide.

“I don't care about... You being anyone's brother.” The elf admitted, “But... But I thought...” Well now it looked like Mahariel was about to cry, and there were people in the chantry watching them (Bann Teagan included). Great, he was going to be famous at Redcliffe for making an elf cry in the middle of the chantry.

The elf's head drooped forward and his hands, which had been resting on his dagger's hilts, dropped to his side as if he were surrendering. “I thought you were my friend.” Mahariel croaked, and Alistair felt his whole body stiffen at the confession. He reached out almost automatically, his hand resting on Mahariel's head as he ruffled the elf's hair slightly. Sometimes it seemed he was much older than Mahariel was. Mahariel looked up at him from under his gauntlet.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way.” Alistair admitted softly, watching as the elf's gaze flicked back down to the ground. Wrong answer?

“Friends don't _want_ to leave each other.”

It wasn't the first time that Alistair wondered what the heck had happened to Mahariel before he came to the Grey Wardens. Duncan's letter, despite his description of the elf, had been scant for actual details of how or why he was conscripted. Alistair sighed heavily, resting his hand on Mahariel's head in an effort to comfort him. Men didn't usually... Touch other men after all. Was it the same for elves?

“No, I suppose they don't.” Alistair replied, “And I won't be leaving you any time soon, I promise.”

Mahariel finally looked back up at him and tilted his head, Alistair's gauntlet running over his hair as he did so, “Do you?” He asked, tone curious and expression suspicious as he made eye contact again.

“Yes, I do.” He confirmed warmly, revelling in the slight smile which it produced on the elf's face. Someone nearby cleared their throat and he quickly withdrew his hand from Mahariel's head, “Now, can we get out of here before Morrigan starts turning the villagers into toads? I'd really like to be prepared for when the walking dead start pouring out of the castle.” The elf snorted, a grin spreading on his face.

“Is a toad army no good then? Should we speak to Ser Perth instead?” He asked, drawing a grin out of Alistair too.

“Yes, I suppose we could do that.” Alistair agreed, his shoulders suddenly feeling lighter of the heavy atmosphere mere moments before.

“They're not so hard to fight anyways.” Mahariel said, turning to the door of the chantry and beginning to walk towards it. Alistair came up beside him.

“Don't tell me you've fought them before?” He asked.

“Once.” Mahariel confirmed, and Alistair tried to ignore the far away look on the elf's face as they exited the chantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that Mahariel would have some serious abandonment issues, what with Tamlen dying and his clan leaving and then Duncan dying as well within (at the most) a two weeks span. 
> 
> It never really sat with me that Alistair, literally the only thing in MC's world that's constant at this point in the game, prattled on and on about how much he wished he'd died along side Duncan and the MC was just like "kay dats a nice story man".


	7. One Little Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group prepares for an impossible battle. Wrangles an old drunk from his hiding place behind a wooden door, and convinces a dwarf to help them.

Mahariel was not sure if he liked Ser Perth. The knight had addressed him rather respectfully, certainly more so than many other humans, but the only help he would allowed Mahariel to give was to ask the “revered mother” for a blessing.

His skin crawled every time he was asked to enter the chantry. He hadn't even liked going in to speak to Bann Teagan. It wasn't really a secret to any in his group that the chantry made him uncomfortable. He didn't want the Creators thinking he had abandoned them, lest they prevent him from ever seeing his clan again.

He certainly wasn't going to waltz right up to a priest and ask her for her blessing, as if a priest had such right to offer a god's blessing.

Morrigan, for some reason, had insisted on coming with he and Alistair and had followed behind them the whole way up the hill.

Now, as they headed back down again, the woman finally spoke.

“So, what is it that got you and your companion all up in arms then?” Morrigan asked. Mahariel looked over his shoulder to see if she was speaking to him, which of course she wasn't, she was trying to bait Alistair.

“I'm sure it's none of your business.” Alistair bit, not turning to look at Morrigan and instead watching Mahariel to see if he'd do anything.

“Oh, I don't know, I think it's imperative to our survival to... Share.” Morrigan replied cheerfully, though as usual that was hardly her intention.

“Would you like to share?” Alistair snapped, squaring his shoulders as they continued down the hill. Morrigan grinned. Mahariel rolled his eyes and faced forward again, just in time to not trip over a stone in the path.

As he skipped over it Morrigan replied, “Oh I think I've shared enough, don't you? We all know who _my_ mother is.”

“Don't you mean father?” Mahariel asked, causing Alistair to stop dead in his tracks and glare at him. Mahariel halted as well, turning to Alistair and tilting his head.

“Don't go helping her.” He hissed through his teeth, as if Morrigan weren't close enough to hear anyways. Mahariel frowned at Alistair, shaking his head slightly and turning to Morrigan, who stopped at a distance to create a triangle between them.

“Oh, what's this? Something about Alistair's father?” Morrigan asked, sounding innocent. 

“But you already know.” Mahariel shook his head again, looking between Alistair and Morrigan as Alistair glared at her and she looked like the cat who caught the canary. 

“Do I?” Morrigan asked, her grin cruel, “What is it about your father then, Alistair?” She asked, watching the knight closely. Alistair growled and turned back to Mahariel. 

“I told you to stop helping her!” He whined. Mahariel sighed softly gave Alistair an apologetic look. 

“I think... She already knows. Right, Morrigan?” The elf turned to Morrigan, who chuckled softly to herself.

“You know more than you let on.” She replied.

“So do you.” Mahariel retorted, “You used your... Shape shifting or something to listen in to the conversation earlier.”

“What?”

“Well done, and how did you figure that out?” Morrigan asked. She sounded like a proud cat who was praising it's human. Mahariel shrugged. Mostly he'd guessed, so it was good that he hadn't completely come up with nonsense. “In any case,” She turned back to Alistair, “Why the deception over your parentage, Alistair?”

Alistair tensed more so than before, glaring at Morrigan as he realised she really had been listening in on the conversation earlier.

“I'd figure you'd be the type who knows all about deception.” He replied snarkily. Irrelevant, though he was obviously trying to change the subject in some way.

“I do.” Morrigan answered simply, “And, what use said deception might have had ended with the death of King Cailan, did it not?”

“Morrigan that's not fair.” Mahariel interjected, but he was “shh”ed by the mage, who put up her hand to silence him.

“I want to hear his reasoning.” She replied, Mahariel frowned and crossed his arms. She didn't even turn to look at him, just help up her hand and kept boring into Alistair. Alistair glared at her for a beat more, before it fell away and he sighed.

“I guess I was hoping it would... Go away.” Alistair grumbled, sounding defeated.

“The truth does not “go away”.” Morrigan chided, Mahariel's hands clenched.

“I didn't say it was a good plan.” The knight answered.

“Clearly not.” Morrigan agreed, turning to Mahariel. She glanced down at his hands and then back up at his face, tilting her head innocently and adding, “Wouldn't you agree?”

The elf opened his mouth to reply, not sure what he would say.

“The man called Murdock has a task for you, Grey Warden.” Sten's voice came from behind and Mahariel sighed thankfully before turning around to face him. He stepped closer to the large man, looking up at him as he did.

“A task?” He asked, hearing Morrigan's soft foot falls as she followed, and then Alistair's reluctant ones a moment after.

“There is a man who has locked himself in the forge, he requires that you convince him to leave in order to make weapons for the coming battle.” Sten explained, not looking up from Mahariel as if he were the only person he was speaking to.

“Why would he lock himself away?” Mahariel asked, “He'll just end up dying.” Sten didn't reply, simply looked at him as if he were asking a very stupid question- Though that was what he usually looked like. Mahariel frowned and glanced around for a moment, before looking up at Sten properly again, “Do you want to go get the blessing for the knight-”

“No.” Sten answered flatly. Mahariel's frown deepened. 

“Why?” He asked, causing Morrigan to chuckle behind him.

“You asked what I wanted, that is your answer.” Sten replied. For a moment Mahariel stared up at Sten with his mouth open. 

“Your mouth is hanging open, Mahariel.” Morrigan scolded, causing the elf to snap his mouth shut again and throw a glare over his shoulder at her. She simply smiled down at him like royalty. 

“Will you show me where this forge is?” Mahariel asked, watching Sten's impassable expression for any hint of change as he answered.

“Yes.” There was none, and just like that the conversation ended as the Qunari turned away from them to lead them in the direction of the blacksmith.

~oOo~

The smithy, oddly enough, was the least dilapidated building in this part of the village. Apparently being hidden under the cliff face made for good camouflage. Sten stepped to the side of the door to allow Mahariel to approach it while remaining at his side.

Mahariel wondered if this was because Sten did not trust who ever was behind the door, or because he simply didn't feel like moving anymore. 

Mahariel stepped up to the door and observed it for a moment, as if taking in the door would somehow cause it to open. He brought his hand up to knock smartly on the wood.

“Go away!” A deep male voice called, “Leave me in peace! You've already taken everything out of my stores! There's nothing left!” Whomever was behind the door sounded positively beside themself- Or pissing drunk... Or both.

“I didn't take anything.” Mahariel replied, tilting his head at the door, “I've not even met you before.” Alistair snickered.

“Eh? You're not Murdock...”

“No I'm-”

“Who are you and what are you doing at my door?” The man demanded. Mahariel frowned and looked over his shoulder at Alistair, who shrugged. 

“Murdock told me to come talk to you... About the smithy.” Mahariel explained.

“That so?” Came the reply, so quickly Mahariel wondered if he'd even been listening, “If Murdock wants weapons, you can give him the same answer I did: He can make them himself.”

“Well that's rude, and probably impossible.” Mahariel replied, glaring at the doorknob.

“What? You don't think he can make a fire, a forge, and metal appear on his own?” Alistair asked sarcastically, “Your lack of faith astounds me.” Mahariel grabbed the doorknob and rattled it uselessly.

“Oy!” The man on the other side yelled, “What do you think you're doing?”

“Coming in?” Mahariel offered, slipping his lock picking set from his hip and pressing one of the picks into the lock.

“This is my property! You can't just barge in he-” But, to the surprise of two of the five people standing at the door, the lock clicked and Mahariel did just that. He pushed the door open with ease, watching as the drunk man jumped away from the door. He cast a lazy look at the man.

“That's better, don't you think?” He asked, this time hearing Morrigan chuckling behind him.

“No it's not better!” The man slurred, clearly enraged, “You can't just come in here!”

“But I just did.” Mahariel replied, absolutely no malice to his tone as he spoke. 

“Some body's been drinking.~” Alistair sung as he closed the door behind them, the shock of Mahariel picking the locks having worn off. 

“I don't have anything of worth.” The man said gruffly, dropping his anger for a moment to glare at the group instead, “So, if you're here to beat on a sad old man, then all I ask is you get on with it. I don't have much to live for as it is.” 

Mahariel placed a hand over his mouth and looked around the room, breathing sharply through his mouth.

“I told you, I just want to talk.” He insisted, gaze climbing back to the old man.

“Iszat so? Then talk, then.” The man replied. Mahariel shook his head. This was why it was better to speak face to face, clearly the man hadn't been able to here him properly through the door. 

“Is this a brewery also, then?” He asked, looking about the place again. Alistair made a sound as if he'd just choked on something, and Mahariel turned around to offer him a look of concern.

“I've been drinking since I got up this afternoon... That makes... hmm... Three days, maybe more.” The man replied. Mahariel ran a finger nail absently over the tattoo on his cheek. 

“So... The smithy is closed then?”

“Look around, the militia took everything they could use. I _could_ start up the forge again, but I won't since Murdock won't listen to me.” The man replied stiffly, successfully sounding like a child who had been denied cookies.

“Have you taken a look at yourself recently? Most people won't take advice from someone who's been drinking for three days, drunks tend to be... Unreliable.” Alistair piped in, and Mahariel nodded.

“Do you know what's going on?” The elf asked, “The militia need your help.”

“Peh.” The man exclaimed, “My daughter used to tell me the arlessa was keeping secrets from her husband, these things coming from the castle mean it's tainted somehow... Blood magic maybe.” For all the man was slurring, he was rather articulate. At least he wasn't rolling around on the floor, as he had seen others do.

“Did you tell anyone?” Alistair asked from over his shoulder, “If it's something like blood magic then surely...”

“Of course not! An' who would I tell? An' what good would it do now? ... I just wish I'd paid more heed to my girl.” The smithy cut in, wavering slightly in his stance. Mahariel frowned.

“Is it possible that this arlessa is the one who made the arl sick?” Morrigan asked smoothly from the door, Mahariel turned around to look at her. It was possible, if what the man was saying was true.

“No, she'd never,” Alistair protested over his shoulder.

“If she was using foul magic, then maybe she just did.” The man countered. Alistair turned back to him, shaking his head as if it could not be true. 

“Your daughter,” Morrigan continued, “Did she say anything else?”

“She suspected the arlessa was having an affair with the tutor she hired for the boy, Conner.” The man replied. “It doesn't matter now anyway, does it? She's lost to me and I can't do anything for her warnings.” Mahariel looked over his shoulder again, hoping that Morrigan would have something else to ask, but the woman simply shrugged slightly, appearing bored with this new information.

“The militia still require your work.” Sten rumbled suddenly, causing Mahariel to jump slightly, having forgotten the large man was even there.

“Why should I help Murdock when he won't help me? My girl... Valena she is one of the arlessa's maids- Trapped at the castle and they won't send anyone to help her! She's been my life since my wife passed on two years ago. Now she's dead or soon to be. I don't care what happens to me, or the village, or anyone!” He cried, Sten observed him stonily. Mahariel glared up at the man in front of him.

“Well that's selfish of you.” He stated plainly. Humans made no sense to him. They all seemed to have no problem with letting each other die- As if more would just keep showing up to replace the dead and that would continue forever. The idea was ridiculous and preposterous. 

“So you're just going to drink yourself to death then?” Alistair added, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why not? It's not like we'll live past the night anyhow.” The man shot, turning a spiteful gaze at Mahariel, “Or are you doing to save us?” He asked sarcastically. Mahariel huffed through his nose, glaring at the floor and crossing his arms as well.

“Well I intend to, at least _I'll_ try, Shemlan...” He grumbled. 

“Maybe it's the drink talking... But you almost sound like you believe that. Tell you what, if you want me to do repairs for Murdock and his men, promise me you'll go into the castle and find my daughter.” 

“Hey, you can't expect him to make a promise like that.” Alistair protested, taking a step closer to Mahariel and setting his gauntleted hand on Mahariel's shoulder. But the elf simply straightened his shoulders, looked the man in the eye and, without blinking, lied straight to the man's face.

“I'll go into the castle and find your daughter.” Alistair's hand tensed on Mahariel's shoulder, biting slightly into the leather.

“Not good enough, I want a promise! Murdock said as much as you and I don't believe him either! Promise me you'll look for her, that you'll bring her back to me if you can.” The man insisted. 

“Now, look,” Alistair started, tone placating yet stern.

“I promise.” Mahariel interrupted again. Alistair's hand slipped off of his shoulder and he thought he could feel the glare he was getting into the back of his head, “I'll find her.”

“I'll accept that... It'll give me some hope at least.” The man replied, 

“Is this a promise we are not going to keep?” Sten bit in suddenly, causing Mahariel to turn to him out of shock.

“I certainly hope not.” Morrigan retorted.

“What?” The smith asked, but Sten turned a stern eye on the man and waved him off.

“I was not speaking to you, human.” 

“R-Right well... I suppose I had better get the fire going and... If any of Murdock's men want me to help them they'd better get here before nightfall!” The man turned away from them and to the forge.

“Should he even be operating the forge with that much drink in him?” Alistair mused, even as Morrigan turned to leave the building with the rest of them following.

“With any luck he'll fall in.” Morrigan replied.

~oOo~

“Well that was a bold faced lie.” Alistair said as the group walked away from Murdock after telling him what had transpired in the smithy. 

“Yes, it was quite refreshing.” Morrigan put in. Sten, who Mahariel sensed was not pleased with him right now, simply folded his arms and glared at them. 

“Sometimes deception is the best for the greater good.” Mahariel replied, “Or we could be overwhelmed by walking corpses and fight with sticks and rocks.”

“He sees the truth of it.” Morrigan agreed, probably for the first time since they'd met. The group was heading out into the fishing houses, stepping up onto the docks and raised walkways.,

“Yes, but what about when, come morning, when we haven't gone in the castle and he closes the smithy right up again? Then what will we do? You can't lie to a man twice.” Alistair protested.

“You cannot lie to a _smart_ man twice, Alistair.” Morrigan replied, as Mahariel knelt down to rummage through a crate. 

“And I thought I told you to stop going through other people's things?” Alistair continued, outright ignoring Morrigan in favour of telling Mahariel off. The elf cast an uninterested look over his shoulder as he pulled some fishing supplies from one of the boxes, lures, hooks and the like.

“If they wanted them they'd lock them up.” Mahariel replied simply, standing and moving to open an unlocked door to a building. 

“You can't just go onto people's property Mahariel.” Alistair scolded. Morrigan chuckled to herself.

“It seems he does, however.” She replied. Mahariel looked around the room.

“Property.” He repeated, trying the word out on his tongue. Rarely spoken amongst the Dalish where everything except things locked away in secret was shared, the word sounded foreign and meaningless to him. “What is this place?” He asked, ignoring Alistair's undignified grumbling.

“It appears to be a store of some sort.” Morrigan offered. Mahariel looked around, stepping up to the counter and leaning over it.

“How strange, I thought stores had people in them.” He muttered. From behind him he heard he heard the sound of a barrel being pried open. He turned around to see Sten looking into a barrel. “What is it?” He asked, approaching on the side of the man and stretching his neck to see.

“Oil.” Sten replied deeply, and Mahariel found himself nodding.

“We could light... Something? On fire, I bet the walking dead wouldn't like that.” Mahariel thought out loud. To his surprise, Sten agreed.

“Yes. Something flammable, like hay.” He stated, placing the lid back on the barrel and turned around.

“Or,” Alistair started, “We'll turn the walking dead into walking dead on fire and we'll all be burned to death.” Mahariel turned around, perceiving the knight with a look on confusion to match Morrigan's disbelieving one. “Or not.” He added, as Mahariel passed him to leave and patted him indulgently on the shoulder.

The next door Mahariel tried was not unlocked, but the elf simply pulled out his lock picks again to unlock it.

“Mahariel that door's locked.” Alistair pointed out, though Mahariel wasn't really sure why.

“No, not anymore.” He said helpfully, heaving the satisfying click of the lock and pushing the door open. He did not expect there to be anyone inside however.

“Wonderful. Intruders.” The dwarf who opening the door revealed grumbled, “I hope you've a good reason for breaking and entering into my home.” Mahariel looked at the dwarf with his head tilted for a moment before Alistair pressed a hand to his back.

“You just broke into this man's house.” Alistair explained softly, leaning down so he could lower his voice and only Mahariel would hear.

“Oh, sorry about that. I didn't mean any harm by it.” Mahariel said, scratching his cheek nervously.

“Apology accepted.” The dwarf said, surprisingly enough, “The name's Dwyn, pleased to meet you. Now get you.” Mahariel frowned at the dwarf- Dwyn. 

“Well what are you doing shut up in here?” He asked, glancing up at the two humans who flanked the dwarf.

“Surviving.” Dwyn answered plainly, “We have supplies to last for quite some time, and my boys and I can swing a weapon better than any of those fools out there.” Mahariel's frown deepened.

“Well then why aren't you helping?” He asked, brow furrowing with confusion.

“Why would I? When did this town ever rush to my rescue?” Dwyn retorted, to which Mahariel shrugged.

“I don't know, I just got here.”

“You are a coward.” Sten stated lowly from behind them in the doorway.

“Well you lot look more than competent. With you out there they don't really need me, do they?” The dwarf asked. Mahariel considered this for a minute, resting his thumb and forefinger on the coil of his tattoo on either side his mouth.

“Don't you think you're more likely to live out there?” He asked finally, gaze settling back on Dwyn.

“I think I'll take my chances in here. Everyone else can run around in the open waiting to die.” Dwyn said, clearly unmoved by Mahariel's question.

“But you're waiting to die in here too.” Mahariel offered, Dwyn's eyes narrowed.

“So what? It's the same wherever I am.”

“Perhaps, but you have a higher chance of survival in numbers, than waiting in this hovel for death to catch you.” Morrigan put in, watching as the dwarf and the two humans considered this.

“You may have a point there lady.” The dwarf agreed, albeit reluctantly. Mahariel looked over his shoulder at Morrigan thankfully. She was much better at coming up with persuasive arguments than he was.

“Well then, there you have it. You either stay in there and die when it's just the three of you to fight, or you come out and have some chance with us.” Alistair added. Mahariel nodded.

“Besides, we're going to set the corpses on fire.” Mahariel said enthusiastically. The dwarf's eyebrow crooked.

“On fire? Well...” He looked between the group, “You know, maybe this village does need a hero. Just. you'd better be out there when the fighting starts.” Dwyn decided, Mahariel nodded.

“Promise.”


	8. Redcliffe Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel, Alistair, and Leliana infiltrate the castle alone. What they find there is not what they expected at all.
> 
> Mahariel has trouble resisting the demon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had trouble with names in this chapter- I think I got all the "Conner"s fixed, but there may be more. Apologies.

Mahariel crouched low along a wall as they snuck through the castle. He glanced behind him, making sure that Leliana and Alistair were keeping up. Leliana was having no problem. Alistair, who had insisted on coming, was having serious problems with the “quiet” aspect of their mission. Mahariel couldn't really blame him, for wanting to come or having trouble sneaking. At least he'd been able to get the man to change into chainmail which moved a little quieter than the plate which clinked against itself. It didn't change the fact that Alistair was large and clumsy in comparison to the Dalish elf and the surprisingly stealthy sister.

Mahariel was not pleased with the situation. The arlessa had come out of the castle, treated both himself and Alistair like nothing more than pebbles in her path to leading Bann Teagan into the castle.

He didn't like it. No, it put him on edge more than knowing he'd sent the dwarf from the house to his death and been unable to protect Ser Perth properly in the battle. He couldn't stand the thought of sending the unarmed man into the castle with a woman who he was certain was hiding more than she let on.

Thus far he had only been proven correct. There had been walking dead throughout the house so far. The mage they had found in the dungeon had confirmed that she had been hiding her son's status as a mage. He'd readily admitted his transgressions against the arl, and who had hired him. Mahariel had released him, despite Alistair's protests, because he had promised to help.

He couldn't wrap his head around why the woman would sacrifice her entire village, and possibly Bann Teagan, just so she could bring the man into her house to visit a child. In this tense situation, if she had truly wanted to help she would have remained with them and tried to help orchestrate more people more people escaping.

The bann's signet ring was on his left thumb, so he could make sure he didn't lose it and so it wouldn't rattle about in his hip pouch. He liked the bann, he was respectful and truly seemed to appreciate the help that Mahariel and his group had offered the night before despite their short comings.

He'd actually meant it when he promised he'd make sure Teagan and the rest of his family would get out safely.

He felt Leliana lean over him so she could whisper to him.

“Where are we even going? Do you know?” She asked, and Mahariel turned to shake his head at her. He'd insisted on leading, mostly because having Alistair lead would mean whatever was in the castle would hear him coming if he led with the speed he seemed to want to go at.

Mahariel chanced a glance at Alistar, who seemed torn between trying to find himself in his childhood home, feeling hopeless about the situation, and desperately trying to reach the main hall in one piece.

So far they'd broken into the armoury, fought some things Alistair called shades in a room which looked like the chantry, fought yet more corpses, and almost entered a room full of Mabari. Had Alistair not recognised the room as the entryway to where the Mabari were kept they probably would have had to fight the dogs.

Mahariel had appreciated the apprehensive hand on his shoulder and Alistair whispering where the hallway had led to. He did not want to fight innocent, possibly scared, creatures.

Mahariel watched the floor as he wandered ahead, spotting a tripwire a few paces away. It was sophisticated, he thought, for the monsters to have set such a thing up.

He crossed into the door just after the tripwire, where a single corpse waited for them. The creature was cut down quickly by both Leliana and Mahariel as they drew their daggers and stabbed it in both the back and chest.

“That's the door to the main hall.” Alistair muttered, and Mahariel frowned at him. He didn't need to tell the man to be quiet, but he didn't want to alert anything to their position. He stepped forward and tentatively tried the door, before turning back to Alistair and shaking his head, drawing his hand across his neck in a motion to communicate that it wasn't going to work. Alistair's shoulders slumped and he heard the man sigh softly.

The elf patted the man on the shoulder as he walked past, that would have been too easy, and he wasn't going to try picking locks in a place where the noise could alert whatever was in the castle to them.

There was another door on the other end of the room, but Mahariel wasn't done exploring the hallway yet. He had been disappointed but not surprised thus far to find that there were no survivors, except for the mage. Yet he continued to look through doors, this time opening one up to find two corpses waiting for him in the room.

Caught by surprise, one of them scratched hard at his face before he was able to stab it hard in the chest. He was startled by how easy it was to kill these things once you got to them. They were squishy, as if all that held them together was magic. Leliana slipped past him through the door and took the second one. So far they'd been trying to keep Alistair out of the fighting, the sound of him unsheathing his sword was too loud in the hallways.

The sister turned to him, placing her hand gently under his chin and lifting so she could get a better look at the scratch which bled on his face.

“Are you alright?” She asked softly, to which he replied with a shrug. Alistair looked on with concern. They'd been able to prevent any real injuries until now, Mahariel felt stupid for being surprised. “Next time, we will be more careful with the door.” She said kindly, clearly understanding what he was doing by searching the castle so thoroughly. Mahariel nodded, pulling gently from her hold and heading further down the hall.

This time when they came to the door, Leliana pressed herself against it and pulled the knob, while Mahariel stood where the opening was with his daggers drawn-

The person inside screamed.

“Please don't hurt me!” She cried.

“Shh!” Mahariel put one hand out to silence her, glancing nervously over his shoulder. To his relief, Alistair was looking down the hallway to make sure nothing was coming. Leliana was still pressed rather firmly against the door so she could surprise anything which might come down the hall.

There was a tense moment, but finally Alistair shook his head and entered the room as well, standing beside Mahariel.

“We're not going to hurt you.” The knight said soothingly.

“I-I'm sorry.” The girl whimpered, “I'm so frightened, those monsters are everywhere.”

Mahariel was certain that screaming at them would do her any good.

“M-My name is Valena, the arlessa's maid. Is she all right?” The girl asked. Mahariel's eyebrows flew up in surprise, and a smile cracked on to his face. He looked up at Alistair with a satisfied grin on his face, to which Alistair replied by rolling his eyes.

“You're the smith's daughter?” Alistair asked to the girl, who had caught their exchange and now looked confused.

“Y-Yes. Did my father send you? I want to go back to the village! Is there a way out of here?” She asked desparately.

“We have cleared a way through the castle.” Leliana replied from her place guarding the door.

“There's a tunnel leading out of the dungeon.” Alistair added.

“I'll find my way...” Valena said, starting towards the door, “I can run fast and I know the castle, thank you!” As she began to run she offered a nod over her shoulder to the Grey Wardens and Leliana.

Alistair suddenly felt overcome with pride for the elf, who had nodded back at the girl and then automatically set about looking for things in the room which might be of use to them. He rushed forward, ruffling Mahariel's hair enthusiastically, who turned in his hand and pressed up against his arm to try and escape.

“Well look at that! You're not a complete liar after all!” Alistair exclaimed, with Leliana watching them with affection from the door. He allowed Mahariel to push his arm away, though the elf seemed content to hold his arm up above his head to keep him away.

“Great! I'm sure Sten will be happy.” The elf said back, though his voice was low, “That's if we get back to tell him, since you've just alerted the whole castle that we're here.” There was a smile on Mahariel's face despite his scolding.

“Oh yes, we'll dance for joy, I think.” Leliana added from the door, “Shall we get a move on?” Both men turned to look for her, and Mahariel threw off Alistair's arm to return to the doorway.

“Yeah, there's nothing good in here anyways.” Alistair was impressed by the way the elf switched from playful mode to serious mode so quickly as he follow both him and Leliana down the hallway.

~oOo~

Their jaunt down the hallway led to a subsequent basement and then courtyard, where the group opened the gates and allowed the rest of their group and the knights to enter.

The battle was quick, though the monster they'd had to fight had left Mahariel visibly shaken and he stared down at the place where the creature had been, all that was left were a few bones.

“I think that was a Revenant.” Alistair panted, leaning forward slightly and trying to catch his breath.

“A demon, possessing a corpse no doubt. Someone has sundered the veil.” Morrigan added, and Mahariel turned to her and looked at her helplessly.

“That was...”

“Did it scare you?” Leliana asked, leaning into his field of vision and giving him a once over.

“That was a person?” Mahariel asked, his hands were still on the hilts of his daggers even though they were in their sheathes.

“No not anymore,” Leliana replied kindly.

“Hardly.” Morrigan shook her head as she looked up at the castle doors, “A corpse possessed, as I said.” Mahariel's brows knit and he looked down at the place where the thing had stood again. He had felt it's power like it coursed through his veins as the taint did. It had moved so quickly. He shook his head and looked up at the castle doors as Morrigan did.

“Let's not run into another one.” He decided out loud.

“Sounds good to me.” Alistair murmured. Mahariel signalled with the wave of his hand that they would be entering the castle proper. He hoped the doors were not locked as the others were.

The rest of the group followed behind him, though Alistair was almost walking in step with him. As they reached the doors he turned to Alistair.

“Do you want to lead?” He asked, causing Alistair to look a bit shocked, before he grinned sheepishly and shook his head.

“No, no I think you probably should. Maker knows I'd just end up tripping on my way in.” He admitted, waving away Mahariel's offer and signalling to the door with an open hand, “If you would.” Mahariel nodded, realising Alistair's nerves for what they really were. He pulled the door open slowly, then swung it open, allowing for himself, the rest of his group, and the knights to enter.

The little entryway they came in to startled the elf, since most of the other rooms they'd entered had been quite spacious, still he led the group on into the main hall, where a most upsetting sight met them.

Teagan was... Dancing, or at least he appeared to be. A boy, and the woman from before stood in front of Teagan, who summer-saulted out of the way and say on the fire beside the boy.

“Are these the ones you told me about, mother?” The boy asked, his voice warped and wrong.

“Yes Connor...” Isolde replied sorrowfully. Morrigan leaned over Mahariel to whisper: “The boy is possessed.” Mahariel nodded absently, his gaze trained firmly on the boy.

“The ones who killed the soldiers I sent to reclaim my village?” He pressed.

“Yes...” Isolde replied again.

“And now it is staring at me mother! What is it?” Connor, or not Connor, asked.

“It is an elf Connor, you've seen elves, we have them at the castle.” Isolde cried. Mahariel's hands went to his daggers, though he did not draw them yet. He felt a hand on his back, though he wasn't sure who it was from, if they were trying to spur him on or stop him.

“Oh yes!” The boy exclaimed gleefully, “I cut their ears off and fed them to the dogs! The dogs chewed for hours!” Mahariel clenched his teeth, his lips pulling tightly into a frown so he wouldn't speak, Creators save him if he did.

“C-Connor, I beg you, do not hurt anyone.” The woman pleaded, turning to her son and reaching out to him, though she didn't touch him. A sudden change overcame the boy, who began to hold his head as if it hurt.

“M-Mother? What's happening?” He asked, resting his hands over his face for a moment, before dropping them back at his side and turning to his mother, who dropped to her knees.

“Oh thank the Maker! Connor, Connor can you here me?” She asked, lifting her hands as if offering to hold the boy- Yet she still didn't touch him. Mahariel shuffled uncomfortably as the boy changed again, lashing out with his arm and snarling at Isolde.

“Get away from me fool, woman! You are beginning to bore me.” The boy's tone dropped dangerously, and Mahariel felt his hands tighten on his daggers out of habit. Oh how he wanted to pull them from his sheathes and be over with this...

Isolde rose to her feet, her head bowed for a moment before she looked up at Mahariel with a helpless look on her face, “Please Grey Warden, please don't hurt my son, he's not responsible for what he does!”

“No, it appears you are.” Mahariel muttered, the woman gasped.

“What have you done to Bann Teagan?” Alistair asked, sounding concerned and desperate.

“Here I am! Here am I!” Teagan laughed maniacally. Mahariel flinched at the sound of his voice.

“I like him better this way!” The boy exclaimed, “No more yelling! Now he amuses me!” He cackled, throwing his head back in a most unchildlike manner. Mahariel glared at him, wondering why they were conversing when this was a situation so easily solved.

“Connor didn't mean to do this! It was that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon! He summoned the demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!” Isolde insisted, to which the boy added: “It was a fair deal!”

“So the boy made a deal with a demon? How foolish...” Morrigan muttered, Mahariel nodded, his gaze never leaving the boy.

“Father is alive, just like I wanted! Now it is my turn to sit on the throne and send out my armies to conquer the world. No body tells me what to do anymore-”

“No body tells him what to do anymore!” Teagan laughed, “No body!” Mahariel flinched again glancing over at Teagan sadly for a moment before looking back to Connor. He didn't want to have to kill Teagan... What if this was unreversible?

“Quiet uncle!” The boy snapped, “I told you what would happen if you kept shouting didn't I? Yes, I did.” Mahariel's head was starting to hurt, he felt like he could hear two distinct voices when the boy spoke and it was making it hard to pay attention. He shuffled his feet slightly, changing his stance, hoping it would help. “Let us keep this civil, elf. Tell us, what have you come here for?” He asked. For a moment Mahariel felt compelled to tell the boy exactly what he'd come there for.

He didn't want to be there, he wanted to be with his clan. He'd come there because he'd had no other choice, how he'd love to have another choice. He'd probably let the demon keep the boy if he could go back to his clan. He'd leave all of these people, these shemlen, who had never done anything on his behalf-

Sharp nails dug into his neck slightly, and he looked up so see Morrigan, who had put a hand on his shoulder and was gripping his neck with her fingernails. Mahariel felt like a fog had cleared, he shook his head slightly and offered the mage a look of appreciation before turning back to the boy with the glare firmly back on his face.

“I came to help Bann Teagan.” He stated, recognising and forcing down the admissions as they tried to escape his throat.

“Uncle?! But Uncle Teagan is right here! Say hello Uncle!” Connor turned to Teagan.

“Hello Uncle!” Teagan's voice sounded strained, like he was being forced to speak. Mahariel ground his teeth, and Morrigan's hand slipped away.

“Uncle was quite full of himself earlier, coming in here as he did. I like him better this way. What do you think mother? Don't you think Uncle does better as a Jester?” Connor asked, though he didn't look from Mahariel now, the duo's gazes locked and battling.

“I-I don't think-”

“That's right, you don't.” Connor agreed, “Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull.” He continued cruelly, turning away from their mental battle for a moment to look at his mother. Isolde's tone made Mahariel wonder if she was also being controlled, or if she had just given up.

Mahariel swallowed thickly, wondering if he would have betrayed his companions if Morrigan hadn't sensed his distress.

“I crave fun! And action!” The demon boy continued suddenly, “This man spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village! And now, he'll repay me.” The demon's tone, gone from condescending to aggressive, spurned Mahariel into drawing his daggers as the boy tore away from the room, and Teagan rose.

Mahariel paused as the bann advanced, realising just how much he didn't want to fight this man. He didn't want to repeat Lothering, he didn't want to- Teagan had pulled out his sword and was raising it above his head to strike but, with a burst of speed he did not know the man had, Alistair appeared from around Mahariel's side and brought his shield up to block the blow, smacking the man on the head with the pommel of his sword.

As Teagan dropped to the floor, Mahariel swung around to engage a guard who had come up on Teagan's side. With this man he did not flinch as he stabbed forth into the leather easily with his sharp dagger, though he did wince as the man fell.

Another man dropped as an arrow stuck him between the eyes, and Mahariel turned around to find Morrigan had paralysed two more guards, and yet another two had fell by Sten. The elf was surprised that Morrigan, of all of his companions had found the best way to keep the controlled men alive.

Alistair stood over Teagan, who he apparently had only smacked hard enough to cause to fall to the ground and regain his consciousness. The Templar offered his hand to the man to help him up, nodding solemnly at him as he did so. Mahariel crept up on Alistair's side, feeling foolish.

“Teagan! Teagan, are you alright?” Isolde cried, coming in from the side of the room where she had crouched and hid. Mahariel fixed her with a sharp glare and she stopped a few paces away from them.

“I am... Better now, I think. My mind is my own again.” Teagan replied, feeling the top of his head where Alistair had hit him.

“Blessed Andraste. I never would have forgiven myself if you had died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!” Isolde cried. Both Mahariel and Morrigan scoffed, the arlessa turned to the latter. “Please! Connor's not responsible for this. There must be someway you can save him!” The woman begged, but Mahariel just rolled his eyes at her.

“No, he's not responsible, you are.” He replied tersely, “How irresponsible of you to hide all of this from his father, and the rest of the village.” An armoured hand fell upon his shoulder as Alistair turned to him and shook his head.

“But we have to do something.” His fellow Grey Warden said, though he sounded like he was begging to. Mahariel looked up at the man, feeling confused. He wasn't sure if Alistair's loyalty lay with Isolde, or Arl Eamon.

“The boy is possessed, there is not much we can do.” Morrigan stated coolly from behind him, and Alistair fixed her with a steely glare, his hand tensing uncomfortably on Mahariel's shoulder. He was glad he was wearing armour, he pushed lamely on Alistair's grip for a moment before the man retracted his hand.

“I don't see how this can end well...” He admitted softly.

“I'm sorry my lady, but Connor has become an abomination. He's no longer your son.” A voice came from behind, interrupting both Alistair and Leliana's protests. Mahariel turned around, about to pull out one of his daggers when he saw it was the mage he had released earlier... Jowan.

“You!” Isolde cried, “You did this to Connor!” Mahariel frowned, was that possible?

“He did not.” Morrigan protested, “Your foolish child made a deal with a demon, he did this to himself.”

“I didn't summon any demon!” Jowan added, “I told you! Please, if you'll let me help.” He took a step forward, but Mahariel drew his dagger and held it in front of him. He didn't trust the man as far as he could throw him, though he had admired his pleas to be allowed to redeem himself earlier he didn't want the blood mage getting any closer to the rest of his group- Or Teagan now that he had seen was demons did.

Jowan haulted, putting up his hands.

“Help?! You betrayed me. I brought you here to help my son, and in return you poisoned my husband!” Isolde wailed. Mahariel watched Jowan closely, though he saw the man make no ill moves.

“Can you help?” The elf asked, a curious look on his face. The man wasn't getting any closer to his friends, but if he could help in anyway... Well it was certainly more than they had now.

“Is this the mage you spoke of?” Teagan interrupted, “Didn't you say he was in the dungeon?”

“He was! I assumed the creatures had killed him, someone must have let him free.” Isolde replied. Mahariel felt all eyes settle on him, and he heard Alistair shuffle behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the man had folded his arms with an “I told you so” expression on his face.

“I did.” Mahariel stated calmly, guiding Jowan by flicking his dagger so the man took a few more steps in the direction of the group with a wide berth, “He wanted to help. He was honest with his crimes and seemed repentant.”

“After everything he did he should be executed!” Isolde yelled, “Without him, none of this would have happened!” Mahariel glared at her.

“Your secrecy made his actions possible, Isolde.” Teagan chided.

“But I-”

“He already said he was going to be executed afterwards anyways.” Mahariel cut in, still glaring at the woman, “He didn't run.”

“I know what you must think of me, my lady, I took advantage of your fear. I'm sorry, I never knew it would come to this.” Jowan added. Teagan regarded the mage thoughtfully for a moment before turning to Mahariel.

“You make a good point, he did not run. I shant turn away his help. Not yet. And of Connor is truly an abomination...”

“He is.” Morrigan confirmed, glancing over at Mahariel, who nodded. He remembered only to clearly how it had affected him. He silently vowed never to let such a thing happen again.

“He's not always the demon you saw!” Isolde insisted, “Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through! Please, I just want to protect him...” Mahariel, realising Jowan was not going to cause any trouble, slipped his dagger back into his sheathe.

“Isn't that what started all of this? You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret- To protect him.” Teagan argued bitterly, turning his gaze to Isolde now and glaring towards her as Mahariel had. Mahariel set about doing a check of his armour, bored with the conversation as it ran in circles.

“If they discovered Connor had magic, then they'd take him away! I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then...”

“Then he'd make a deal with a demon and beseech your sorry village with the walking dead?” Morrigan helped, one hand on her hip. Mahariel shook his head, giving his left glove a thorough look over.

“Well...” Alistair looked from Mahariel to Isolde and Teagan, “What options have we got then?” He asked, looking back to Mahariel as if he expected the elf to answer. He didn't, “I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child but... If he is an abomination...”

“He is.” Morrigan repeated, folding her arms now.

“We can't kill a young boy, demon or no.” Leliana protested, “Please don't say we're considering that!” Mahariel tightened the clasp which held his right glove on.

“Connor is my nephew... But... He is also possessed by a demon. Death would be... Merciful.” Teagan put in softly. Mahariel looked up at Jowan and raised his brow expectantly, spurring the man on with the tilt of his chin.

“There is... Another option.” Jowan started slowly, “Though I loathe offering it. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself.”

“What do you mean? Is the demon not within Connor?” Teagan asked, hopeful.

“Not physically.” Jowan explained, “The demon approached Connor in the fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon.” This statement sent Mahariel's mind whirring with options, wondering how, if this was an option, it had never been used before. He knew, vaguely, of the mage tower and how mages were taken there.

“Then you can enter the Fade?” Isolde asked, more hopeful, “And kill the demon without hurting my boy?”

“No, but I can enable another mage to do so. I usually requires a lot of lyrium and several mages, but I have... Blood magic.” Jowan told her softly, and Mahariel's head snapped up from looking at the toes of his boots.

“No.” He said harshly, all eyes in the room turned to him again. “No we're not using blood magic.” Mahariel reiterated.

“But if it can help my boy then-”

“No.” He snapped, closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, “We need lyrium?”

“Lyrium provides the power for the ritual. But I can take that power from someone's life energy. This ritual requires a lot of it, however... All of it in fact.” Jowan explained, and Mahariel shook his head roughly, his hair bouncing over his ears.

“No then, absolutely not.” Mahariel crossed his arms, glaring at the floor. He did not want the chance of there being another demon in the castle, and he certainly didn't trust Jowan to cast a spell.

“Isn't there another way?” Leliana asked, stepping forward so she was inside Mahariel's field of vision.

“The power has to come from somewhere, and that means lyrium or blood.” Jowan said, turning to Leliana to speak.

“Then let it be my blood, let me be the sacrifice.” Isolde offered.

“What, Isolde are you mad? Eamon would never allow this.” Teagan protested.

Mahariel ran a finger along the lines of his tattoo on his cheek, as the conversation continued without him again. He felt useless to talk if no one would hear him, he didn't notice that Alistair was watching him closely, apparently waiting for his next word.

“Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside of him or I give my life so that he can live. To me, the answer is clear.”

“There's lyrium at the circle tower.” Alistair put forward tentatively, still watching Mahariel. The elf's eyes flitted to him for a moment, before looking back at Jowan. “Blood magic is not going to help in this, two wrongs do not make a right.” He pressed on, trying to get the elf to agree with him.

“Connor is blameless in this, he should not have to pay the price.” Isolde replied softly, apparently resigned to her fate. Teagan turned to Mahariel, who glanced at him for a moment before he ceased tracing his tattoo and folded his arms again crossly.

“It... It is up to you my friend. You know more about such things than I do, and it's your companion going into the Fade. The decision is yours.” Teagan said, and Mahariel shook his head.

“He does not know, in fact.” Morrigan said, shaking her head in the corner of his vision. She was right. He'd almost fallen victim to the demon's whims. He'd never had very much experience with magic, only Merrill and she had never really spoken about her magic. His knowledge of abominations came from the stories that Hahren had told him when he was younger, his knowledge of blood magic came from the words of caution to Merrill after the man's tale.

“Can we go to the circle tower?” Mahariel asked, turning to Morrigan and then Alistair. Morrigan shrugged.

“Well, it's not far, and one of the treaties is also for the circle of magic, after all.” Alistair replied, sounding more hopeful as the statement wore on. Mahariel nodded slowly.

“The tower is about a day's journey across the lake. You could attempt to get the mage's help.” Teagan added, though Mahariel figured they would not be crossing the lake directly. Their journey would probably be a mite longer.

“But what of Connor? He will not remain passive forever!” Isolde objected.

“We'll just have to take the chance.” Mahariel said, turning away from Isolde so he could take a few steps from her and the entire conversation.

“Very well.” Teagan agreed, “I will keep Jowan here as a precaution, he says he wants to help, he can keep an eye on Connor with me. Go to the tower quickly, the longer you are away the greater the chance of disaster.” The man managed to assure Mahariel of the boy's safety and make a pit of worry form in his stomach at the same time. The elf nodded, turning back if only to show Teagan respect when he spoke to him.

“We will return with haste, Teagan.” Mahariel replied, “I promise.”


	9. Gifts for Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel is a bad boy who pilfers from dying men's desks.
> 
> Mahariel wants to show Morrigan his gratitute for rescuing him earlier.
> 
> Humans still like shiny things.

The fire crackled loudly that night as they set up their camp.

Mahariel was finishing up his tent, the object he had in his pack was practically burning a hole in it. He couldn't contain himself anymore. As he turned around he found that, thankfully, Alistair was the only one at the fire. Sten sat a ways away, sharpening his blade, and Leliana had turned in as soon as her bedroll and tent were set up.

As he approached Alistair looked up, offering him a grin.

“You know there's nothing like not killing a child or using blood magic to make your day.” He said brightly, Mahariel chuckled through his nose and came to a stop as he was standing over him.

“I found something-” He started, but Alistair interrupted.

“Mahariel, not again. I thought we'd been over this. What is it this time? A goblet? I can't really see you finding much else at the village- Unless you went looting in the arl's castle, you didn't go looting in the arl's castle did you?” Alistair rambled, finally settling on looking at Mahariel suspiciously. The elf's face cracked into a sheepish smile.

“Do you remember when I told Teagan I wanted to do a sweep of the floor to make sure there were no more corpses?” He asked.

“And so we did and we opened yet another door to more corpses which almost took off your face? Yes, I do actually.” Alistair said, and Mahariel ran a finger over the ointment he'd put on the scratch on his cheek. It stung. He hadn't let Morrigan put anything on it until they had stopped to set up camp and now he regretted it. He reached into his pack and pulled out the silver amulet he'd found in the arl's study, then dropped it into Alistair's lap.

“This...” Alistair's gaze dropped to the amulet and he picked it up reverently, “This is my mother's amulet... It has to be, but... Why isn't it broken?” He asked, turning it over in his hands as if it were gold. He looked up at Mahariel, who dropped to the ground beside him to sit, “Where did you find it?”

Mahariel looked at Alistair for a moment in silence, honestly wondering if he should tell Alistair where he found it. He'd recognised it from Alistair's story a few days before, he'd recognised that it had been repaired as well.

“In a drawer.” He settled on, watching as a wave of emotions crossed over Alistair's face. For a moment he was surprised, then annoyed, then amazed, then he looked back at the amulet in his hands and stared at it.

“The arl must have found the amulet after I threw it at the wall... And then repaired it and kept it. I don't understand, why would he do that?” Alistair asked, still staring at the amulet. Mahariel smiled, leaning in to get a better look at the amulet.

“Maybe he likes you.” Mahariel replied softly, catching Alistair's eye as he looked up and smiling wider at him.

“I... I guess you could be right. We never really talked that much, and the way I left...” The smile fell slightly from Mahariel's face. Alistair looked to be upset now, and he worried he'd done something wrong. “Thank you, I mean it... I thought I'd lost this to my stupidity.” Alistair muttered as he turned back to stare into his hands. The elf shook his head, but Alistair didn't see. “I'll have to talk to him about this if he recov- When he recovers from this... I wish I'd had this a long time ago.”

The pair sat in silence for a while, Alistair staring into fire and holding the amulet tightly in his hands, apparently lost in his thoughts. Mahariel's hands wandered to the amulet around his neck, he began playing with the beads of the animals, listening silently to the fire cracking.

He hadn't told Alistair about his necklace belonging to his father when they had spoken before, not wanting to appear like he was better off because of it. He wasn't, not really, he kept it around his neck for show. It spoke of who he was, where he was meant to be.

Alistair broke him from his revery, “Did you remember me talking about this?” Mahariel nodded, not taking his eyes from the fire, “Wow... I'm more used to people not really listening when I go on about things.” The humour had returned to his friend's voice, and Mahariel found a smile on his face as he turned to him.

“You're my friend.” Mahariel reminded him, their conversation the day earlier reverberating slightly in his mind as he spoke. Alistair sighed softly and shook his head, the smile on his face as he looked back into the amulet's face.

“I'm honoured.”

“What? Why?” Mahariel asked, frowning, that was a weird thing to say to a person who'd just announced their friendship.

“Well when I first met you, you didn't seem overly interested in friendship, if I'm being honest.” Alistair explained, pulling the string of the amulet over his head and letting it rest on his chest. Mahariel nodded slowly, turning back to the fire.

“I... I wasn't, if I'm being honest.” Mahariel echoed softly, clasping his hands over his knees and pulling them closer to him so he could rest his chin on them.

“Can I ask you... What happened? No, of course, I can't. Don't answer that.” Alistair shook his head slowly, watching the elf as he tensed slightly.

“My clan cast me out.” Mahariel explained, ignoring Alistair's dismissal of his question and pausing for a moment as he sorted through his words, “We found something in these ruins and... Duncan called it a Imperium Mirror. Apparently it had the taint in it, so then I did too. Duncan had to “invoke the right of conscription”, because I refused to go with him.” Alistair winced, hearing the break in Mahariel's voice when he said “conscription”.

“Wait so, all that time you were fighting along side us in the wilds...”

“Hmm.” Mahariel agreed softly, closing his eyes against the fire's glow. He didn't like thinking about it, he was thankful when Alistair didn't press him for more than he gave.

~oOo~

Mahariel wasn't sure how long he sat there for, but the next time he opened his eyes, Alistair was no longer there and he had no idea when he had left. A quick glance around revealed that even Sten had retired, and though the fire burned lively, it had obviously been quite some time since he closed his eyes.

He'd dreamt, he realised, of Tamlen. Though the dream was slipping away too quickly for him to catch it.

Mahariel pushed himself to his feet, groaning at his stiffness. He looked up, noting the position of the moon and the stars and deciding it was very late, that he should be sleeping properly. He had been about to go into his tent when something caught his eye: Morrigan was still awake at her campsite, sitting on a log and poking the fire with a stick.

Quietly he crossed the short field to where she was lodging. He was not surprised when she looked up before he got there, offering her a small smile as he entered the light of her fire.

“You're still awake?” He asked.

“So are you.” She stated, Mahariel shook his head, the smile still on his face.

“I found you some things.” He said, sitting down on the log beside her without asking first. She shuffled slightly away from him, though he was clearly unphased.

“Really? Not more of your trinkets, I should hope.” Morrigan turned to him, though she was entirely wrong. Out of his pouch he produced two small rings and another necklace like the first she'd received from him.

“Yes. Is... Is that a problem?” The elf asked, eyes innocent as he held the items out for her. She scoffed, taking all of them into her hands and turning them over for a moment before putting them away.

“Really now, I am not some... Female who needs dotting upon.” She protested, picking up her stick again and poking the fire violently.

“Oh. Alistair likes the things I give him.” Mahariel said, watching her for a moment, though she did not look back at him.

“Does he now? Give them to him then.” She instructed sternly, though she did not make an effort to return the items she had received.

“They're thank you gifts.” Mahariel claimed, “For earlier... When you did that thing.”

“What thing?” Morrigan demanded, turning to face him now and scrutinising him closely. Mahariel's hand went to the back of his neck and he squeezed slightly, to which Morrigan replied by rolling her eyes, “I did nothing.” She said, returning her gaze to the fire before her, which she continued to poke.

“You wouldn't have touched me if you weren't doing something.” Mahariel said defiantly, “You told me you don't like touching.” A grin quirked at the side of Morrigan's mouth.

“Oh were you listening to that, then? I had assumed I was just as a fly, buzzing in your ear.” She said, dropping the stick at her side and straightening up to looking at Mahariel again, “If that is the case,” She began, referring to the even from earlier, “You are quite welcome.” Mahariel nodded, smiling at her, she found a small smile on her face in spite of herself.

“Everyone seems to think I know all this stuff, like magic and how to lead a group and... I don't.” Mahariel admitted, staring at the ground between his knees, “Alistair thinks I'm in charge, and Bann Teagan thought I could make a decision on _blood magic_ , and everyone clearly thinks...” The elf swung his hand, encompassing the camp, before trailing away and slumping forward slightly, his elbows resting on his thighs.

“Are you not fit to lead?” Morrigan asked, sounding displeased.

“I'm only eighteen.” Mahariel muttered. To his surprise, Morrigan actually laughed. When he looked up she had a hand over her mouth to silence herself.

“I had assumed as much, if your patience is any indication. Alistair is only, at the most, two years your senior.” She counciled, clearly referring to his inability to sit still at the castle earlier that day. 

“And you?”

“Rude.”

“Sorry.”

Mahariel looked away again, looking over the camp instead of at Morrigan- Who was clearly not very pleased with the conversation. 

“I say,” Morrigan began slowly, “Your age has no matter. Thus far you have been a rather... Acceptable leader.”

“Thank you, but-”

“Do you think I say that lightly?” Morrigan asked, interrupting his self derision. He reluctantly turned back to her, watching her for a moment as she watched him.

“No.” He finally concluded, pleased when she nodded in the affirmative. 

“Right, well, off to bed with you then.” She stated, standing up and extinguishing half of her fire with the wave of her hand, “I need my own sleep, which I shan’t be getting with you wandering about at all hours.” Mahariel looked up at her like she was joking for a moment, but her sharp gaze settled on him and he knew she was not. He stood up slowly, still aching from earlier.

“You won't tell anyone... Right?” He asked softly, “About the demon... Or the age... Thing?”

“Surely not.” Morrigan replied, and the elf felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He turned to return to his own camp, taking a few steps away from Morrigan's before stopping and turning slightly. The mage was already at her tent door.

“Morrigan?” He asked tentatively over his shoulder.

“Yes?” She asked, looking over her shoulder as well and sounding annoyed.

“Good night.” He said, the woman sighed exasperatedly.

“Good night, Keladryl.” She said back, turning back to her tent and disappearing inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering: I actually really love Morrigan. I was worried I was making people think I dislike her- But Mahariel is the one who has issues with her.
> 
> I think she's great.


	10. Two of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel, Alistair, and Leliana make it to the Tower of Magi where Mahariel meets someone who appears to be going through a situation similar to one he has experienced before.  
> This leads to a determined promise to help the tower and the mages, despite the dangers it entails.

Mahariel was restless, clearly, and nervous as they cross the lake in the small boat. The elf was bouncing his knee, leaning forward with his hands threaded tightly in front of him, his head limp and hair falling into his face.

The templar had said they would only fit four people on to the boat, including himself, so Mahariel had made the hard choice of once again bringing only Alistair and Leliana with him. Leliana reached forward now and put a hand gently over his lightly shaking hands.

“Do you not like the boat?” She asked softly, leaning closer so she wouldn't impede Carroll's rowing. She and Mahariel shared one seat, while the other two were occupied by the larger men. Mahariel shook his head.

“That shemlen man said there were “things” in the lake.” Mahariel replied weakly, not taking his gaze up from the floor of the boat. The templar snorted derisively. Leliana glared darkly at him for a moment, tossing a look over his shoulder at Alistair who shrugged.

“Doubt we'll find any mages out here at least.” Alistair offered, “Right?” He stretched to get a better look at Mahariel, who didn't move at all from his hunched over position.

“Breathe” Leliana reminded kindly.

“Can you not swim?” Alistair asked, noting they were now at least half way to the tower. Mahariel shook his head again.

“Playing in calm rivers and in the shallows of lakes does not constitute swimming.” Mahariel muttered, staring blankly at Leliana's hand over his. Leliana made “hmm” noise, and he felt more than heard Alistair shuffled slightly in his seat as the boat rocked slightly. He tensed, and Leliana gripped his hands in both of her's, coaxing him to look up at her as she pulled his hands closer to her's.

“Surely your people swim, though?” Leliana asked kindly, though Mahariel just scoffed darkly and rolled his eyes.

“My people.” He snapped, averting his gaze though he did not pull away.

“Can we cut the chatter please?” Carroll asked none too kindly. Three sets of eyes turned to him with sharp glares, but despite that they fell silent for the rest of the boat ride.

The journey to the edge of the lake and the tower had been exhausting, both Alistair and Mahariel wanting to rush due to the time constrains on their journey. Everyone was tired when they had arrived, and Morrigan actually looked relieved to be left behind so she could spend some time recovering from their rushed travelling. Sten had not wanted to enter the tower anyways, though only Mahariel had noticed that.

When they'd reached the lake Mahariel had automatically zeroed in on the boat rower, who had confused him with mockery and callous words laced with respect and apology. He had already been on edge from the lack of sleep, being called a knife ear for the first time since he'd left his clan, due in part to him avoiding contact with any humans other than his group, had almost caused an incident. Having Alistair there to hold him back while also scolding the man sternly was probably the only reason the sorry sod was still alive.

Mahariel waded through his mental sludge as they made their way across the rest of the lake. He didn't like this Carroll man, he was rude and condescending towards both himself and his companions. He clenched his teeth as the boat rocked when a small wave hit it.

Leliana's hands squeezed slightly over his own. She wasn't letting him sit hunched over anymore, and though she had fallen silent, she regarded him with a kind look on her face- Almost like an affectionate mother might watch her child. There was always something guarded in her expression though, and it made Mahariel feel uncomfortable and fidgety.

There was a light thud and a terrible scratching as the boat hit land, causing Mahariel to tense and pulled his hands away from the bard so he could grip the side of the boat. Carroll threw him a superior look, and Mahariel positively glowered.

“Alright, here we are.” Alistair interrupted, standing with care so he could step out of the boat and on to the dock. Carroll stumbled out of the boat as well, mooring it clumsily to the dock. Alistair's hand first reached to help Mahariel, who was closest, and as he helped the elf shakily up onto land, Leliana got herself out of the boat with a raised eyebrow at Alistair which Mahariel didn't catch. He did notice that Alistair pulled his hand away quickly once he was semi-steady on his feet.

“Well... This is where I leave you, then.” Carroll said, shuffling slightly in his armour.

“I told you,” Mahariel muttered testily, “I am a Grey Warden here to speak to the mages.” The templar had not believed him, and thus a rather uncomfortable conversation had commenced in which Leliana had offered to tell the man stories of debauchery on their way across- And then had done no such thing.

“And I told you, I am the Queen of Antiva.” Carroll replied with equal petulance.

“Oh, go away!” Mahariel snapped, stomping up the docks and away from the terrible man. Alistair followed close behind, Leliana behind him, “Alistair I do not like templars so much.” Mahariel admitted as they reached the doors of the tower, looking up even though it was impossible to see the top from this close.

Only trees should ever be that tall.

“Oh, I don't know,” Alistair replied, trying to lighten the mood, “Some of them are a barrel of laughs.”

“They seem like a barrel of sexually frustrated fools to me.” Leliana put in, which won her a laugh out of Alistair.

“Do you want me to talk to them?” Alistair offered kindly, watching as Mahariel's hand hesitated on the door. The elf nodded, reaching into his pack and pulling out the treaties before handing them off to Alistair. The former templar took them without complaint, though he shook his head slightly at Mahariel's hesitation- Though, perhaps he would be as hesitant if everyone treated him with as much disdain.

Alistair having taken the reigns for now, Mahariel pushed the doors of the tower open and walked through with his head held higher than before. What met him looked like absolute chaos.

There were men on the ground in templar armour similar to Carroll's, every man without a helmet looked like he'd just seen the blight. There were pictures hanging sideways, or fallen completely, and everything which could be overturned was.

“What on earth...” Alistair muttered, as they approached a middle aged man talking to another man with a helmet on.

“Bar the doors, do not let anyone in or out.” The man stated sternly, and the man with the helmet bowed before going to fulfil his task.

“The doors are barred? Are they keeping people in or out?” Alistair asked, standing so he was about half a pace in front of Mahariel and coming to a halt.

“Now we wait and pray.” The middle aged man said, turning to their group with more calm on his face than Mahariel had expected.

“You're Greagoir?” Alistair asked, directing the man's attention to himself and away from Mahariel.

“Who are you?” The man demanded crossly, suddenly all business as if he'd been woken by cold water splashed in his face, “I specifically told Carroll not to allow anyone across the lake!” He glared over their shoulders at the closed doors and then turned to take in the group again, “We're dealing with a very delicate situation, you must leave for your own safety.” He explained, with finality.

“No, we need the mages to take a look at these treaties.” Alistair argued gently, trying to calm the situation before it had the chance to escalate.

“I am weary of the Grey Warden's ceaseless need for more men to fight the darkspawn... But it is their right.” Greagoir replied, his stern expression falling to one which was almost regret or grief. Mahariel tilted his head, did the man... Mourn the deaths of the mages which were lost at Ostigar? He gently put his hand on Alistair's arm and took a step forward. If this man had so much compassion maybe this wouldn't be so hard.

Yet Greagoir continued, “You'll find no allies here,” His gaze set upon Mahariel, “The templars can spare no men, and the mages are indisposed.” Mahariel frowned as Gregoir moved about with agitation, “I will speak plainly, the tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the tower's halls. The Circle is lost, the tower... Has fallen.” As the man returned to stand before him, Mahariel felt his heart tug slightly. Here more mages had apparently been taken over by demons, and yet this man who Mahariel had thus far been led to believe should react with heartless abandon and simply have killed them all seemed sorrowful for them.

“Can I help?” He found himself saying, to Alistair's apparent shock as the man turned to him and gaped openly at him.

“I have sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Right of Annulment.” Greagoir replied, though his tone remained somber. Mahariel had no idea what the Right of Annulment was.

“The Right of Annulment?” He asked carefully, watching as Greagoir's tired face fell even more at his question.

“The Right of Annulment gives templars the authority to neutralise the the mage Circle, completely.” The man's sentence which had begun with conviction and a sense of defensiveness petered out by the end, he sounded once again regretful. Alistair leaned in.

“The mages are probably already dead.” He explained solemnly, “Any abominations remaining must be dealt with, no matter what.” Mahariel frowned, and shook his head up at Alistair.

“I don't think-”

“This situation is dire.” Greagoir interrupted sternly, “There is no alternative, everything in the tower must be destroyed so it can be made safe again.” Mahariel's frown stayed in it's place. For every word that came from the templar's mouth there was an expression of sadness, of loss, of intense regret. He did not believe that the man had as much conviction in his words as he believed there was.

“But that can't be true, can it? Every single one?” He asked desperately, looking towards the barred door. It was so quiet besides their words, he almost wanted to believe there was nothing left beyond the door- But Bann Teagan's face swam in his mind's eye and he could not give up on the only chance he really had to make good on the promise he'd made the man. “No.” He said finally, not giving Greagoir the chance to reply, “There must be another way.”

“If there was, do you not think I would have chosen it?” Greagoir began, but Mahariel did not let him finish.

“I can see you would have.” Mahariel said, “You have much need to fulfil your duties as a templar.” Smiled, hoping it was kind enough to get his point across. Alistair was watching him out of the corner of his eye.

“No one could have survived those monstrous creatures.” Greagoir replied mournfully, “It is too painful to hope for survivors, and find... Nothing.” The man's gaze dropped to the floor and Mahariel felt his insides clench painfully.

“I know...” He muttered softly, looking at the floor himself. He fashioned his lips into a thin, straight line. The man before them did not hear him, but Alistair had and he looked both confused and dismayed more a moment before looking back at Greagoir. It was clear that someone very important to the templar has either gone missing or had been killed inside the tower. Mahariel clenched his hands into fists at his side, reigning in his emotions as he looked up at him.

“We'll look for survivors.” Both he and Alistair stated at the same time, turning to look at each other. Alistair smiled kindly, Mahariel looked to be in shock.

“I assure you,” Greagoir began, affronted, “An abomination is a force to be reckoned with, and you will face more than one.”

“I am sure my friends did not mean any insult to you, Ser Greagoir.” Leliana began smoothly from behind them, easing in between the two men and offering them kind glances. Mahariel, stunned back into action, nodded enthusiastically to the man.

“No, not at all I just... We need to try something, anything. Can we please be your alternative?” He asked desperately, taking a step towards the man, who frowned at him thoughtfully for a moment before nodding slowly.

“A word of caution then.” He started, having given up quite easily, “Once you have crossed that threshold there is no turning back. The great doors must remain barred, and I will open them for no one, until I have proof that it is safe.” Mahariel smiled as the man continued, “I will only believe it is over if the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so. If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed.”

All at once Mahariel knew exactly who Greagoir had lost in the tower and his heart ached again for the man. Perhaps he should have given such an ultimatum to Duncan or Merrill, maybe they would have found Tamlen then.

“May Andraste lend you her courage, whatever you decide.” Greagoir concluded, nodding solemnly to them. Mahariel nodded back slowly.

“We will enter the tower in the few moments time.” He explained.

“There are not many provisions to be acquired here, but if you require time for strategy or the like, I would understand.” The templar said, watching them as Mahariel led them over to a mostly unoccupied corner.

“Are you alright?” Leliana asked, as Mahariel turned to face them when he reached the wall. The elf looked up at her, fashioning his expression into something hopefully blank. Alistair watched him closely as well, Mahariel crossed his arms stubbornly.

“Why wouldn't I be?” He asked, frowning at the two of them as the watched him.

“You just seemed a little... Distressed there for a moment.” Alistair offered softly, Mahariel was unsure if Alistair was afraid he would get mad or if he thought he was calming him in some way. He was certainly calm, at least that was what he was telling himself. Leliana nodded.

“No.” Mahariel stated, squaring his shoulders and holding himself up straight like he believed it. Leliana offered him a sympathetic look, which Mahariel hated all at once, and Alistair sighed softly then shrugged.

“Alright, let's get on with this then, shall we?” He asked, looking over at the closed doors, “I loathe to wait before we throw ourselves into undeniable peril.”

“As you wish, Ser Knight.” Mahariel replied, rolling his eyes and forcing a grin to his face. Leliana didn't seem moved, but a smile quirked at the edge of Alistair's lips as they approached the doors properly.

“We're ready to go in.” Mahariel announced, for all they hadn't discussed any sort of strategy due to his dodging of his companion's concern. The templars at the door looked at them sideways, but opened them up at Greagoir's nod.

As the doors shut behind them with a resolute finality, Mahariel felt the weight of the situation fall heavily upon his shoulders. The dead lay all around him.

The tower was silent.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No there is still no Zevran I don't know where he is right now as my game hasn't even alerted me to him and I'd like to get him semi-canonly (i.e. not running between two places in an attempt to trigger the right scenes) if he doesn't start showing up between the tower and Redcliffe I'll... Pull some strings.


	11. Into the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group finds a new companion as they enter the tower. They find a demon who proves to be too much for them. Mahariel struggles in the fade.

“Stop right there!” The woman commanded, holding up her hands defensively, “Take another step and I swear I will strike you down where you stand.”

Mahariel frowned at her. He'd just come through half of the first floor of the tower, he assumed by the way the floor curved, and all he'd found were dead mages. They. All they had found were dead mages, he reminded himself as he remembered his companions. He shuddered, dealing with the dead was not his forte.

Now this woman stood before him, alive it seemed, and the first thing she did was threaten him. He was completely dumbfounded.

“We mean you no harm.” Leliana said smoothly from his left. Alistair leaned in on his right.

“There are children.” He muttered, nodding in the direction of the young ones. Mahariel glanced at him and then back at the woman. A bear protecting her cubs then, he understood and nodded affirmatively.

“I am Wynne, mage of the circle and these children are under _my_ protection.” She explained, relaxing slightly, “Who are you? And what is your purpose here? Have the templars opened the door? Speak quickly- I'll have no games”

Mahariel bent his head slightly rubbing his forehead, “So many questions.” He muttered, to which the woman replied by glaring at him firmly, “Uhm... I am Keladryl Mahariel, this is Alistair and Leliana. We're here to... Help Greagoir?” He glanced between his companions, who nodded in agreement.

“Then you do serve the templars, as I feared. Do they have the Right of Annulment?” The woman asked, her harsh gaze only intensifying. Mahariel's frown deepened as well, she feared that he was helping Greagoir? Why? He had thought Greagoir a trustworthy sort.

“No.” He stated, shuffling nervously from foot to foot, “They expect it will arrive soon, however...” Oh he didn't like how this was going one bit.

“So Greagoir thinks the Circle is beyond hope... He probably assumes we are all dead.” She concluded mournfully. Mahariel felt her foolish for flitting from one emotion to another. She turned to the girl on her right, young, but not a child. She began to pace, “They abandoned us to our fate, but even trapped as we are, we have survived. If they invoke the Right however, we will not be able to stand against them.”

Mahariel gripped his own elbow tightly, looking at the haunted faces of the children and how exhausted the girl seemed.

“What happened?” He asked, his curiosity of the situation winning over his haste to solve it.

“Let it suffice to say that we had something of a revolt on our hands, let by a mage named Uldred.” She explained, Mahariel nodded intently, “When he returned from the battle at Ostigar, he tried to take over the circle. As you can see, it did not go as planned.” Both he and Alistair tensed slightly at the mention of Ostigar, Mahariel let his gaze rove over the room they were in, and concluded that mages turning on mages made as much sense as elves turning on elves.

“I don't know what became of Uldred,” Wynne continued, “But I have no doubt all of this is his doing, I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity.”

Mahariel nodded again, noting the barrier on the far door and the woman's fierce protection of the younger mages. It was clear to him that she had felt there was no other choice but to stay and protect the children, but she had let precious time go to waste in doing so.

“We are here to help, if we can.” Leliana put in lightly, smiling at Mahariel out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes, the Knight Commander seemed... Reluctant, but Mahariel here insisted we be let inside to... Help.” Alistair added, offering Mahariel a smile of his own to the elf. He had truly not thought they would find anyone alive.

“Did he now?” Wynne asked, to which Mahariel shrugged. “The barrier I have erected to protect the children will prevent you from entering the rest of the tower.” Wynne explained, “But I will dispel it if you will join me in saving this Circle.”

There were too many eyes on him, as usual. Mahariel did not enjoy the scrutiny, he longed to pass the torch of decision to Alistair, but the other Grey Warden's gaze remained on him as he shuffled about nervously. He had already said he would help, why did the woman need more from him?

“Shemlen...” He grumbled under his breath, which earned him a raised eyebrow from Wynne and a scolding, “Mahariel...” From Alistair. He sighed softly, “Yes, I will... _We_ will help you.”

“Once Greagoir sees that we have made the tower safe, I trust he will tell his men to back down. He is not unreasonable.” Wynne said hopefully. Mahariel shook his head.

“He has told me he will only open the doors if the first enchanter says the tower is safe.” Mahariel explained, “But if you are safe, perhaps he is as well.” He hoped so, he did not want to have given the man false hope.

“Then, we must save Irving.” Wynne concluded. Mahariel nodded.

“Can we go?” He asked, the slightest of whines creeping into his voice. Wynne gave him a pensive look.

“Of course.” She stated, and then turned to the older mages, “Petra, Kennon, look after the others. I will be back soon.”

“Wynne are you sure you're alright?” The girl who was named Petra asked, “You were so badly hurt earlier. Maybe I should come along.”

“The others need your protection more. I will be alright, stay here with them and keep them safe and calm.” Wynne instructed. Mahariel huffed slightly, though he looked over Wynne for any sign of injury or weakness, he would not be able to afford either later.

“Let's get going.” Alistair said, pressing his gauntlet into Mahariel's back and urging him forward towards the barrier. He could tell the elf was anxious to get moving.

“If you are ready, let us end this.” Wynne said, turning to the barrier as well. Mahariel reached it a step before her, staring into the shifting surface.

They didn't have time for all of this chat. They needed to save Irving, leave the circle, have enough mages to help Connor and then return to Redcliffe with them to do so. All of this conversation and bargaining and arguing was making him itch, why did no one understand the urgency of their plight?

He sighed in frustration as Wynne dispelled the barrier.

“Be prepared for anything, I do not know what manner of beasts lay behind this barrier.” Wynne counselled, Mahariel nodded and continued on.

~oOo~

Mahariel was exhausted. He'd fought monsters beyond his imagination, been on fire more than once, fought against demons, and spoken to a man who was not a man but the husk of a man- A tranquil.

Or had he? Had it all been a strange dream? He wondered fogilly. He couldn't seem to think past the moment when he had entered the tower. Why had he entered the tower? So desperate was he to... To do something.

He was walking through the forest, his feet silent as they hit the ground. Yes, this seemed right. He belonged in the forest.

“Are you paying attention Lethallin?” Tamlen asked him jokingly, he looked up at his friend, his heart giving an odd tug as he looked at him.

“Y... Yes? I... I just had the strangest waking dream Tamlen.” He replied, looking down at the bow in his hand and shaking his head to try and rid it off the fluffly feeling which was daunting him. Tamlen laughed at him easily.

“We cannot hunt if you are not paying attention Keladryl.” He chided good naturedly. Mahariel nodded slowly, but he could not shake the feeling of wrongness about him.

“I... I was in the Circle, you know the Circle? It had been taken over by all manner of beasts and demons.” Mahariel explained slowly, the fog would not leave his mind. Tamlen knelt next to a tree and Mahariel joined him, they looked out into a clearing where several deer were standing.

“The Circle, Lethallin? Why on earth would you be anywhere near that Shem-ridden place?”

He didn't _know_. They were hunting, and if they did not return with food the clan would go hungry and they would be failures and he was more worried about a waking dream than... Mahariel closed his eyes and shook his head. No, something was not right. He stood up slowly, taking a step back from Tamlen.

“Where is Alistair?” He asked quietly, receiving a look of confusion from Tamlen. Mahariel could feel Morrigan's cold hand on his neck, something was definitely not right.

“Who?”

“Alistar... And... And Leliana. I was with them.” He pressed, feeling as though he were walking through thick mud.

“I don't know what you are talking about Lethallin.” Tamlen replied apologetically, shaking his head as if his friend had gone mad. Mahariel frowned, he had gripped ahold of something, and now he could not let it go.

“Are we dead?” He asked softly, causing Tamlen to turn to stare at him disbelievingly.

“Are we what?”

“Dead. Duncan told me you were dead, and if that is so, and you are here, then I must be dead to.” Mahariel explained. Yes, that seemed the right of it. Tamlen rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“You are holding too much onto this waking dream, Lethallin, I am certainly not dead.”

No. That was wrong.

“No. I... I became a Grey Warden, the human king was slain at Ostigar, I was on a quest with Alistair to end the blight and... And...” And now he was here? No, this was not right. Nothing was right. His heart ached, his head hurt. He rubbed at his forehead with both hands, scrubbing his face furiously in an attempt to wake his dulled senses.

“Silence.” A voice, which was Tamlen's but not, came from his left. He looked up. Tamlen had been replaced by a black creature with elven ears but no discernible features. It stared at Mahariel will soulless eyes, Mahariel's hands went to his daggers. “I offer you an eternity of happiness and you cast it in my face, Lethallin.” The voice which was Tamlen's but not boomed.

“Do not call me that!” Mahariel cried, unsheathing both of his daggers and plunging them down into the creature's chest. All at once the clearing was not a happy place full of life, the creature dissipated in a wisp of smoke, which cleared to reveal a dead forest with no leafs upon the trees, dead brown grass beneath his feet, the deer which had been in the clearing were gone, in their place was a strange pedestal- The only proper light to be seen. The elf sheathed his daggers.

The entire world had taken a strange foggy edge to it, he rubbed his eye furiously, glaring down at the place where “Tamlen” had been. He was most certainly not rubbing out the tears which had apparently formed there against his will.

“How cruel to make me do this...” Mahariel whispered softly, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Where was Alistair in all of this? And Leliana? Wynne? Were they alive? 

His mind began to clear as he forced his way to the answers. They had encountered a demon of some sort which had put them to sleep. Sleep meant the world of dreams, which the Keeper had told him was the fade when he was young. He must be in the fade.

Tentatively he approached the pedestal, nothing else impeded him. He glanced back at the place where “Tamlen” had been, swallowing thickly and then turning back to take hold of the pedestal in his hands. There was a sharp pull in his stomach, and when he opened his eyes he was in a very different place. 

It seemed the world could not decide if it was ruins of a city, or a forest, for now there were strange pillars here and there, most overturned or broken halfway up, yet the scraggly trees and dead grass remained. He saw a person before him, and for a moment he hoped it was Alistair even though the man wore robes.

He was disappointed as he approached.

“Who are you? Where did you come from? Are you a demon?” The man asked, sounded panicked and exhausted. So many questions. Mahariel covered his eyes and then rubbed his hand down his face. Too many questions for his mind which still felt as if it were in a thick fog.

“Keladryl Mahariel, I don't know... And no, I'm not.” Mahariel shook his head. The man reacted and spoke much quicker than he did.

“Congratulations on getting out of that trap.” He said.

“Who are you?” Mahariel asked. 

“Niall.” The man answered quickly. Mahariel nodded.

“Oh, the strange man in the stock room mentioned you. I need to find my friends... Have you seen them?” Mahariel looked around, hoping against hope that someone he knew would be within his field of vision.

“No. You are the only one I have seen since...” Niall sighed, “This place it drains you... Of everything, of life, of hope... There is a pedestal over there which shows the demon's domain and the five islands surrounding the one which the demon resides on... But there is no way to get there. I have tried everything.” Niall explained, slouching forward slightly. Mahariel shook his head.

“I will find them.” He stated stubbornly, looking at the pedestal, “I have to.”

“Maker you really believe that do you?” Niall chuckled derisively, “I believed it to... It seems like eons ago.” Mahariel fixed a cold glare on the man.

“I will do it, shemlen, you watch me.” He snapped. He would not let Alistair or Leliana come to harm because of him, he would not see them disappear in a puff of smoke before him as Tamlen had, he would ensure that Wynne returned to her children. Morrigan's hand was cold on the back of his neck, he pressed his own hand to the spot. He'd need to find her many more shiny things when he got out of here.

Niall sighed, “Don't let me stop you.” He mumbled, sitting upon a broken pillar and watching him lazily. Mahariel rolled his eyes and scoffed, turning to the unactivated pedestal. 

His goal was clear, he needed to find everyone. But  _how._


	12. Searching for Alistair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel is feeling the ups and downs of the Fade, his weakness to the Fade and it's creatures starts to show again.
> 
> Niall has to help convince him to continue on his journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found a wonderful beta, who is helping me out despite my inability to properly communicate what it is I need. ^^;;
> 
> WitchyBee, thank you so much. Anyone reading this should totally go hit her up, she's here on AO3.

His body was heavy. Every movement was becoming hard to justify. He was certain that if he were in the real world he would have given up and lay down somewhere, but he knew that if he stopped he would not start again. Sheer force of will propelling the elf forward through the hazy, yellow-tinged landscape.

Niall had been quite surprised, even excited, when Mahariel had told him that he had turned into a mouse. Mahariel shuddered at the thought. Elves were supposed to be born elves and stay elves. They were not supposed to change shape. That was mage stuff.

Mahariel had pushed steadily through the darkspawn castle, met the strange knight, become a strange spirit, had defeated the demon on the island which Niall resided on, and was now forcing his way through a building which looked like the mage tower.

The bookshelves were sunken into the floor, sitting sideways or leaning back heavily against the walls, some floated above the floor as if held up by invisible rope. The floor was not stone but a strange rock with root like substance growing over top. His footing was hard to maintain. The walls were cracked and broken and there was no roof. When he looked at the sky he saw other worlds- Other islands above him. It reminded him he was in the Fade, that he couldn't stop no matter how much he wished to.

Mahariel clenched his hands tightly around his daggers. He did not want to be a mouse or a spirit anymore; he did not want to wander lost through purple veils only to end up where he had just been again. He wanted flowers and grass and trees. He wanted fresh air, he wanted to feel the air move through him as he took a breath. The air here was thick and useless, only there to make him feel like he was breathing even if he wasn't.

He was back where he started again in the tower, in a strange room with bookshelves on either side, the pedestal in the corner, a table in the centre. There was a mouse hole in the opposite corner of the room, a portal behind him, and a door adjacent. He was so lost here. He had come back to this place at least ten times already and he was no closer to wherever he was supposed to be.

Maybe Niall was right, maybe there was no way out. The man had been so excited when he had killed the demon on his island, but now Mahariel was wandering around in circles and so hopelessly lost he felt tears of frustration prickling in his eyes. How humiliating to be lost in a world which shouldn't exist except in dreams, and how stupid that he couldn't just wake up from it.

He headed down the hallway again, glancing into the room with the floating bookshelves. That room only lead to a strange square room with an angry wolf in it. The next room had a portal and a mouse hole in in. He did not wish to be a mouse again.

Doing this alone was impossible. He had never done anything alone in his entire life. He was not supposed to be a leader. He wasn't supposed to be a solo traveller; he was Dalish. He needed his clan to help him figure out where he was and what he should do. He needed Alistair to help him, Alistair and the rest of his companions.

His lethallin.

Mahariel knew the only solution was to be a mouse again, but he didn't want to be. He sighed, sheathed his daggers, and took the form anyways. He had to escape here, somehow. He hadn't found the others yet. He needed to find them.

He had already been attacked by an ogre in the room that the hole took him to, his path was clear, the portals just kept sending him backwards. The end of the hallway which this room connected to had a portal as well, and a door which he could not pass. A second doorway had a wall of fire. He had avoided all the fire in the darkspawn castle, but here he did not know where else to go. He was so tempted to cross through it, but he knew if he died here there would be no hope for returning to the waking world.

With a heavy sigh, Mahariel turned to return to the pedestal. It was just another dead end. He would have to try something else.

~oOo~

 

Mahariel sat on an overturned column with his hands resting in his lap, staring at the ground blankly. His mind was exhausted. He could be all of these things now, a mouse, a spirit, a man on fire, and a large rock being. He could move through small holes, through ethereal doors, through fire, and break down large doors. But he didn't want to anymore. It was too much.

Niall sat beside him, quietly watching him from a short distance. 

“ I can tell that you're getting tired,” the mage said sympathetically. Mahariel glanced up at him, then back down at the ground. “But you are so close now, I can feel it, please, do not give up.”

“ I don't want to do it anymore,” Mahariel muttered flatly.

Niall sighed. “I felt like that, but you have got much further than I ever did.  _ You  _ have a chance,” he insisted, turning to Mahariel and staring at him intently. The duo had made a switch: Niall spurned into hope by Mahariel's progress, and Mahariel disheartened by the blocks he found at every turn. “You are too hard on yourself,” the man added, hoping it would press the elf into action.

“ I do not want to be all of these things,” Mahariel replied, his eyes planted firmly on the ground.

“ What of those friends of yours?” Niall urged. “You wanted to find them, to help them, surely they need your help.” The elf's gaze flicked upwards at Niall for a moment before going to his hands, clenching them firmly on his lap.

“ Why does it have to be me?” Mahariel asked, which caused Niall to chuckle slightly.

“ I thought the same thing at first,” he admitted. “Why am I the one who had to take the litany? Why am I the one who had to encounter the sloth demon?” Mahariel looked up at him, eyes tired and disinterest plain by the sag of his shoulders and the way he slowly looked away as if Niall hadn't said anything.

“ Did you ever get an answer?” Mahariel asked softly, tapping his fingers with his other fingers.

“ No,” Niall answered plainly. “Someone probably just had to do it, and I am the one who drew the short stick.” Mahariel continued tapping his fingers, taking turns with which hand was doing the tapping. For a moment Niall was frustrated with him, but the Fade quickly took the burst of energy away from him. He sighed, staring out into the nothingness.

Mahariel ran his tongue over his teeth, his mind moving at a snail's pace. He was having trouble grasping what Niall was trying to say. His zeal from his encounter with the demon of his dream gone, and his desire to help his friends far away like watching a bird rise into the sky. The helplessness of the situation felt like a thousand pounds to him.

What was the point in trying? He had found so many dead ends, so many places of no returns. This place was a place of nothings. There were no things, only existing, and not existing. Maybe if he ceased to exist he could just wake up and everything would be fine. He couldn't get to where he wanted, even with all these creatures he could be he was still suck, still useless in the grand scheme of things.

A thought rose to the surface, a piece of pond weed bubbling up to the top of a marsh, slow and thick. The room with the fire, and the door which he could not pass. Except he could pass both now, because he had fire and power. Why hadn't it occurred to him before?

Slowly, and with great effort, Mahariel pushed himself to his feet. “I think I can do it now...” he said, barely more than a whisper.

“ What?” Niall asked, looking up at him with disbelief.

“ I think...No, I know I can do it now,” Mahariel repeated, turning to Niall. “I will try.” He took a deep breath, imagining it mattered, imagining it was air filling him.

“ Will you?” Niall asked, sounding hopeful again. A weak smile grew on to Mahariel's face.

“ I think so,” he said, and turned to find the pedestal. “Just keep an eye out for my friends.” He took a hold of the pedestal.

“ I'm not going anywhere,” Niall chuckled, as Mahariel disappeared.

~oOo~

 

Mahariel shook his head as he came through the newly opened portal. Unsure where he'd just taken himself, farther from the main island- But the shape on the pedestal had reminded him of the location of his dream.

He hoped.

The first thing, person, he saw was Alistair, and his heart swelled. It felt like it had been years since he'd seen the man. He felt relief overwhelm him, that Alistair was alive and that he'd actually found him. Alistair was his good friend, his best living friend probably, he realised. He felt a guilty twinge that he'd almost given up on him, but his relief conquered it.

His feet and mouth were moving before he could even take in his surroundings. He surged forward, grabbing Alistair by the arms, 

“ Lethalli--Alistair, I've found you! I was looking everywhere for you!” He cried, missing the look of surprise on Alistair's face and the woman standing beside him.

“ Mahariel--What? Why are you here?” Alistair asked, making a face at him and gently retracting his arms as if they were acquaintances again, like he didn't want Mahariel getting too close to him. His gaze was vague, as if he was seeing through him. It was then that Mahariel noticed the woman. His face contorted from one of joy to a cold glare.

“ What is that?” he asked, taking a step back and watching the woman closely.

“ What are you on about? This is Goldanna, my sister, remember?” Alistair asked. “These are her children, and there's more about...somewhere,” he said with a chuckle, Mahariel could count four apparent children with a quick look around. “We're one big happy family. Now, why are you in Denerim?”

“ This is the Fade,” Mahariel replied tersely, watching the woman again.

“ Alistair, is your friend staying for supper?” Goldanna interrupted, causing the elf to tense.

“ Oh, say you'll stay.” Alistair smiled at him, but there was something wrong about it.  “ Goldanna's a great cook; maybe she'll make her mince pie and--”

“ Am I in the way of your happy 'family', Alistair?” Mahariel asked, glancing at Alistair with a hurt expression. “I have never heard you speak of this woman before, and I am to believe she is your sister?”

“ What? You're being very...odd. And rude,” Alistair replied with a frown. Mahariel sighed, a hand going to rest on his dagger.

“ If one of you had come to save me I would have been grateful, you are my friend, you are the reason that the demon could not coerce me--my...new clan and yet...” He glared at the woman, though he watched Alistair out of the corner of his eye.

“ I  _ will _ make my mince pie for you dear brother,” the woman said, voice silky. Alistair relaxed visibly.

“ Stop talking to him!” Mahariel snapped, teeth clenched and bared. All the time as they spoke, she would no take her eyes off of Alistair.

“ Mahariel, why are you talking to her that way? Goldanna is a wonderful woman, the soul of an angel and...” Unable to hear anymore, Mahariel turned to face the knight. He had to persuade him somehow. He reached forward and gripped Alistair's bicep.

“ Lethallin, please,” he begged, “How did you get here? Why are you here? Isn't something wrong? Can't you tell?” The knight looked down at the elf's hold with confusion for a moment, his frown deepening.

“ Fine, if it makes you happy,” Alistair replied softly, concerned by Mahariel's desperation. “I well...” His gaze met Mahariel's firmly for the first time since he'd arrived, “It's a little fuzzy...”

“ Alistair, come have some tea,” the woman cooed. Mahariel snarled in her direction, gripping Alistair's face roughly with his other hand, giving him a hard look. He wasn't going to allow her to ensnare him again.

“ No, no wait. I remember... a tower. The Circle, it was under attack, and there were demons, but that's all I really remember,” Alistair said, sounding like the thoughts were painful to bring up.

“ We were trying to help Arl Eamon, remember?” Mahariel asked, expression softening, relaxing his hold on Alistair slightly, “We ran into a sloth demon and then we got sent here.” He glanced at the woman, not wanting her to turn on them while no one was watching.

“ But...does that mean this is all a dream? But it feels so real!” Alistair insisted stubbornly. Mahariel let go of the man's face, clenching his hand into a fist at his side, ready to  _ hit _ him if he had to.

“ Of course it's real!” the woman snapped, “Now go wash up for supper and I--”

“ Something...doesn't seem right,” Alistair said, glancing at the woman. Mahariel tugged roughly on Alistair's arm, pulling his attention back.

“ It's not right! Now come on, with me, please.” His amber eyes were wide and pleading, wishing with all of his being that Alistair would listen to him.

“ I...”

“ No! He is ours! And we'd rather see him dead than free!” the woman, who was definitely not a woman, growled, lunging in Mahariel's direction just in time for Alistair to pull out of his grip in shock.

The elf, also shocked at the sudden outburst, was pushed onto his back by the demon who still had the shape of the woman, her hands wrapping around his neck. Mahariel kept his knives on his hips with good reasons, and this was one of them. He pulled one knife out, plunging it into the demon's back, then pulled the other out and stabbed her in the chest, gasping as the tight hold around his neck was gone, and the demon disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Around Alistair were the apparent bones of the “children”.

Mahariel lay on his back for a moment, breathing heavily, before sheathing one of his knives and looking up to find Alistair's hand being held out to him.

“ Are you...all right?” Alistair asked, pulling Mahariel to his feet. Mahariel sheathed the other knife and nodded weakly, brushing off his legs even though there was no dirt in the Fade. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier.”

“ It's okay, something similar happened to me,” Mahariel explained, with a shrug. In truth he felt lethargic all over again, his body felt heavy.

“ Still I--” A cloud began to engulf Alistair, from his feet, “Hey, what is this? Where are you going? What's happening? Hey!” Mahariel reached forward just in time for his hand to go right through the place where Alistair's arm had just been.

He looked at the spot where Alistair had stood. His lip trembled slightly and he bit it to keep it still. There was a chance that Alistair had just woken up, or that he'd been taken to somewhere else. He had to believe that Alistair hadn't just disappeared, though part of him started wondering if that Alistair had been a demon, too.

He couldn't stop now, at any rate, no matter how he wished to just lie on the ground and give up. Every step he took felt like a step backwards. He'd found Alistair and had him taken away, would he even be able to find the others? He clenched his hands and his teeth, and then turned to the fade portal again.

He  _ had  _ to find everyone. He couldn't just give up.

 


	13. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the final showdown with the demon, but once it is defeated, Mahariel is in for quite a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WitchyBee helped me out again on this chapter. I'm getting the hand of capitalization after dialogue now. ;)
> 
> Go check her out, she's on AO3.

After Alistair, Leliana and Wynne's rescues had gone off mostly without a hitch, the two of them had also disappeared into a strange smoke, and Mahariel wondered if they too had been strange illusions the Fade had shown him.

'Leliana' had forgotten who he was.

This was all inconsequential at the moment, however, as he had finally found his way to the middle island of the mess which was the Fade. He did not even want to return here again in his dreams, he decided as he stepped away from the Fade pedestal he'd taken here from Wynne's dream.

The Fade made him feel as the taint had before the Joining, he realised. Many times during his journey to Ostagar he had simply wanted to give up and let whatever was coming come. What he did not allow himself was the realisation that the first time it had taken Duncan to compel him every step of the way, and this time he was working almost completely on his own. Such self gratification was lost on him.

When he arrived at the middle of the island, the demon was waiting. Even though he looked different in the fade, Mahariel knew it was him. Instantly his urge to give up, to rest, to sleep, increased ten fold. He could hardly keep his eyes open. He glared at the creature.

“Release me foul demon!” he snarled, gripping his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms in an effort to stay alert. The demon laughed cruelly, the sound grating on Mahariel's ears.

“ My, my, but you do have some gall. You have had your fun, you have ' _ escaped' _ , but play time is over, you all have to go back now,” the sloth demon drawled. Mahariel narrowed his eyes, the demon had clearly said “all” which meant the others who he had rescued had been his companions. Hope jumped in his chest.

“Oh! Here I am!” he heard Alistair exclaim, Mahariel swallowed thickly and looked over his shoulder at the man who had suddenly appeared behind him. The man, and the two women as well. “And there you are! You just disappeared--”

“Didn't,” Mahariel interrupted, turning back to the demon with a grin on his face, “I quite specifically stayed where I was.”

“ You tried to keep us apart,” he heard Leliana chime, but the recollection that she  _ had  _ in fact forgotten about him prevented him from replying, “You did so because you fear us, don't you?”

“You will not hold us, demon,” Wynne added righteously, “We found each other in this place, and you cannot stand against us!” Mahariel clenched his teeth slightly. They had no idea what he had been doing while they dreamt, though their dreams may not have been kind to them. Still, he grinned at the demon, he would not let on his ire.

“ If you go back quietly, I'll do better this time,” the demon replied. Images of Marethari and Merrill slipped through his mind. “I'll make you  _ much  _ happier.”

“We want nothing you offer, demon!” Mahariel barked, grin turning feral as his hands clenched around the hilts of his daggers.

“But I made you happy, and safe. I gave you peace. I did my best for you and you say you want to leave?” It sounded hurt, though Mahariel loathed to think it could actually feel emotion.

“If you have been watching me, as I am sure you have, I felt no such peace,” the elf replied darkly, lowering his head but keeping his gaze on the creature.

“Can't you think of someone other than yourself?”

Mahariel thought of how happy Alistair had seemed. He wondered if Alistair would prefer to sleep. Perhaps Leliana had been enjoying reciting her prayers repeatedly, perhaps she had enjoyed the simplicity of not remembering her companions. Maybe it  _ was  _ all his own selfishness which drove him to try and stop the sloth demon. His hands began to relax of their own accord.

“Stop...playing with my head, demon,” he uttered, teeth clenching with the effort to try and keep the demon from compelling his thoughts.

“You call that happiness?” Wynne asked, her voice dangerous and low. As Mahariel was brought back by Wynne's sharp words, remembering her weeping surrounded by dead mages, his hands clasped tightly around his daggers again, and he shook his head roughly.

“Enough! I don't want to hear anymore; you die here, and now, finally,” he yelled.

The ensuing battle was long and arduous. Come the end of it, as the demon melted away over Mahariel's dagger, plunged deep through its chest, Mahariel sunk slowly to his knees, panting heavily. His dagger fell to the ground in front of him, and he snatched it up quickly for fear it would disappear. Sweat dripped from his nose and chin, but he wondered if it had affected his real body. The sweat, clearly a construct for his own benefit, disappeared as it fell from him.

“Is it over?” Alistair asked warily, though all of Mahariel's companions were aware that he seemed much more exhausted than they. Leliana leaned forward to press a hand to Mahariel's back.

“Are you alright?” she asked kindly, only to be brushed away as Mahariel pushed himself to his feet and sheathed his daggers. He took several paces away from her. 

All at once Niall was standing before him. Mahariel was so exhausted he could not even be surprised.

“ You defeated the demon...I never thought...I thought you had...” The mage laid a hand on the elf's shoulder. “You have freed us,  _ all  _ of us,” he added, noting Mahariel's companions.

“Do we rest now?” Mahariel asked softly, joking weakly. Niall smiled kindly at him.

“When you return, I want you to...to take the Litany of Adralla from my...body. It will protect you from the worst of the blood magic,” Niall explained. It took a moment for Mahariel to hear him properly.

“Wait, your...your body? No...what? Are you not coming with us?” His eyes widened considerably as he spoke, his tone panicked. Mahariel gripped his left hand tightly in his right, worrying at it.

“I cannot. I have been here too long,” Niall explained mournfully. Mahariel's mouth dropped open slightly, his lip trembling.

“Is it my fault? Did I take too long? I'm sorry. I tried! I really--” Niall held his hand up to silence the elf, who was working himself up into a frenzy. The mage's other hand squeezed Mahariel's shoulder gently.

“No, it was...already too late for me when you arrived. For you...Well,” he looked at Alistair, Wynne, and Leliana in turn, “It will have been an afternoon's nap.” His gaze returned to Mahariel, who was chewing away on his trembling lip with his eyes still wide. “You will be fine.”

“ No.” Mahariel replied, his voice breaking, “ _ You'll  _ be...” He swallowed over a lump in his throat, turning away from Niall and shaking his head, “No, no, no,” He whispered, because it couldn't be true. He didn't  _ want _ it to be true. He liked this man, who would not believe that he could do anything, but at the right moments allowed hope to poke through his dreariness. Who pointed out all the things he could  _ try _ , but never expected him to succeed. Who believed when  _ he _ had given up completely.

“Every minute I was here the sloth demon was feeding off of me. He used my life to fuel the nightmares of this realm,” Niall explained softly, trying unsuccessfully to console the poor elf. Alistair took a step forward, leaning in to see if he could get eye contact with him, doubled over and worrying his hands away as he was.

“ Mahariel?” he asked softly, gaze darting up to Niall and wondering  _ what on earth  _ had happened while he had dreamt of a happy family. The elf reluctantly looked up, and Alistair was dismayed to see that his eyes shone with tears.

“No?” Mahariel asked helplessly. Alistair's lip twitched downwards at the look on his face. Leliana wandered closer as well, though she did not attempt to touch Mahariel again. Niall stepped closer.

“I am dying; it is as simple as that,” Niall concluded, Mahariel coughed over a sob which threatened to bubble over, though no one was fooled.

“Okay...” he muttered, digging his nails into the side of his hand and turning back to Niall, with not a tear shed. He took a step away from Alistair and closer to Niall, extending his shaking hand to the man, a gesture which he had not offered anyone else thus far. Niall took it and held on tightly.

“ I was never meant to save the Circle,” Niall said, shaking his head. “Just remember, you  _ can _ . Take the Litany... It is important.” Mahariel nodded wordlessly.

“And what of you, ser mage?” Alistair enquired.

“I can rest easy, knowing you will save the Circle,” Niall answered, as Mahariel retracted his hand and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. “I was not meant to be a hero, perhaps trying to be one was foolish.”

“Do not say such things, Niall. If not for you, the Litany would be lost, and consequently the Circle would have no hope,” Wynne interjected, giving the man a solemn look over. Niall chuckled weakly.

“You may be right,” he agreed, glancing over at Wynne before returning to Mahariel, who seemed to be keeping his silence in order to keep his control as well. “Before I was taken to the Circle, my mother would tell me I was destined for greatness. More than my ancestors had ever dreamed. I... Hope I haven't disappointed her.”

Mahariel wondered why Niall was telling them all this, but as his gaze finally rose from the ground to meet Niall's again he realised the statement was being directed at him. He opened his mouth for a moment, before closing it because his lip trembled, then took a deep breath.

“No. She is proud, I think,” he said, forcing a smile to his face in both and effort to cover his tears and to soothe the dying man. Niall returned his smile, though they both faded quickly.

“It is time to be on our way, I think. Remember, the Circle is all that matters now,” Niall counselled, “Goodbye...friend.”

~oOo~

 

Mahariel's eyes snapped open as if cold water had been poured upon him, and truly he felt it. He swallowed around tears which had apparently started falling from his eyes against his will. As he sat up he wondered. Perhaps Niall had been wrong. Perhaps it had  _ all _ been a dream. Perhaps the demon still lived and he was waking to end it once and for all, and they had all been dreaming separately from him, perhaps--

However, when his gaze fell upon his companions, who were all sitting and watching him with a mixture of pity and apprehension, he felt the sob which he had kept welled up in his throat escape. He looked over at the lifeless body of Niall and, ignoring the tears which were currently falling down his cheeks, he pushed himself to his feet and went over to pull the Litany gently from the man's cold hands.

“Mahariel...” Alistair began, his armour clinking as he also rose from the floor.

“Not now, lethallin,” Mahariel interrupted, voice cracking as he looked down at the paper in his hand. He turned back around to find Wynne and Leliana also standing. He pressed his leather glove to his face, trying to rub away the wetness, and held out the Litany to Wynne, “I do not want it; you take it,” he instructed, and was relieved when Wynne took it gently from him without a word and took a look at it herself.

“We...must continue on,” Leliana advised, to which Mahariel nodded appreciatively and turned away from the group so he could lead them through the rest of the tower. Alistair came up beside him as they came to the exit of the room.

“What's a lethallin?” he asked cautiously, “You called me it...um... in the Fade as well, I think.”

Mahariel took a shaking breath, pausing momentarily at the door to the hall and smiling shyly at the taller man. 

“My friend, and clan member,” he said softly, voice gravelly. Alistair looked at him with surprise for a moment, before returning Mahariel's smile with his own. “Let us make haste, we have been kept for too long,” Mahariel instructed, smacking Alistair's arm roughly and stepping into the hallway.


	14. Final Battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preceeding their ascent to the top of the tower, Mahariel and company stumble upon the first sane templar that they have encountered since entering the inner parts of the Circle. Mahariel is faced with a tough decision. Alistair faces a fear he didn't realise he had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to WitchyBee for her awesome betaing. She's just started on a new DA story, so definitely go check her out. (She's on AO3)

As they came around the corner at the top of the tower, Mahariel was temporarily blinded by a bright cylindrical shape near the stairs. He blinked for a moment, trying to see through the milky white shape and figure out what it was doing there. It was Wynne who spoke first.

“ It's a templar. He...he's still alive, I think. We have to help him!” she cried, quickly passing him and approaching what appeared to be a large barrier. Mahariel followed, the shape of a kneeling man forming as he drew closer.

“ The last templar we 'helped' attacked us,” Mahariel replied softly, looking at the figure with sympathy. He did not enjoy putting down living people, shemlen or not.

“ No, this one is different,” Wynne replied, squinting through the barrier. Alistair shuffled nervously behind them, while Leliana craned her neck to see without drawing any closer. They had killed every other living thing thus far, none of them were feeling very optimistic.

“ Hello?” Mahariel tried, raising his voice in hopes it would pass through the barrier. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?” he asked, leaning forward to get a better look.

“Th-this trick again?” the templar asked in bewilderment, looking up at Mahariel through narrowed eyes. His voice was muffled through the barrier, but as the man lowered his forehead back to his clasped hands Mahariel heard him insisting their trickery wouldn't work.

This man was clearly in control of his faculties, which none of the others had been. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man thought they were demons. He took a step back to take a better look at the barrier.

“ Did he make this?” he asked Wynne, looking at her momentarily before looking back at the templar who had started reciting the chant.

“No, I have never seen anything like this, mage or templar make,” Wynne replied, “This is certainly the work of blood magic.”

Mahariel nodded, leaning towards the barrier and being careful not to touch it. If it was indeed blood magic that held the barrier it would probably do something nasty if touched.

“ Are you all right?” he repeated, watching the man with curiousity. He must have a great will to have withstood this far, where his brethren had not.

“ Enough visions!” the templar grunted, apparently trying to use some power which Mahariel did not feel the affect of, “If there is anything human in you, kill me now and stop this game!” the man rocked back and forth as he spoke. Mahariel knelt to the ground.

“ He is delirious; he's been tortured!” Leliana cried, sounding distraught, “He's probably been denied food  _ and _ water. I can tell.” She took a step forward. “Here I--” Mahariel threw his arm up to stop her.

“ Stay away!” the man shouted, “Filthy blood mages getting in my head...”

“ For one, I am an elf, not a human,” Mahariel replied, earning the slightest twitch out of the man's hands. “I am also not a mage.” Though his tone was soothing, Mahariel spoke loudly so that the words would reach through the barrier.

“ I will not break...I'd rather die,” the man muttered, his rocking increasing. “I will not listen to anything more that you say, be gone!”

“ I'm going to help you,” Mahariel offered helpfully, “You don't have to die or break, because I'm going to get rid of those...creatures that did this to you,” he sneered, looking back towards the room where the sloth demon had been.

“ What? That...that usually works. Why have you not disappeared?” the templar asked, looking up in disbelief. “I closed my eyes but you are still here when I have opened them...” The man's voice cracked as he spoke. Mahariel's hand clenched into a fist at his side as he turned back to look at the man.

“ I won't trouble you any further, but first, please tell me where the surviving mages are,” Mahariel replied, leaning further forward so that his nose almost touched the barrier. Leliana knelt as well beside him.

“ What mages? What are you talking about?” the man demanded, his voice cracking further.

“ Irving and the other mages, we need to know where they are,” Wynne replied soothingly. The templar looked to have heard, but did not take his eyes off of Mahariel save to glance towards the stairs.

“ They...they are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming from there...oh, Maker...” The templar bent forward again, though this time it appeared he was distraught rather than praying.

“ Hush now, it is all right, we will fix this terrible mess,” Leliana cooed, nodding to Mahariel when he looked up at her.

“ Y...you look like her,” the man whimpered suddenly, and Mahariel looked back to find that the templar was looking at him again.

“ _ Her _ ? Who?” he asked, looking around to see if he could see anyone else.

“ Surana...” the man's voice cracked and he dropped his head forward again, now it was apparent he was crying from the way his shoulders shook. Mahariel frowned, looking up at the others for help.

“ We must make haste,” Wynne warned. “They are in grave danger, I am sure of it.”

Mahariel nodded slowly, pushing himself to his feet alongside Leliana and looking down at the man. As he was turning away to head towards the stairs, the man pushed himself to his feet.

“ You can't save them!” he exclaimed, balling his hands into fists just before they touched the barrier. “You don't know what they've become...”

Mahariel looked back at him over his shoulder, shaking his head.

“ I'm not just going to kill them all,” he said. He had promised Greagoir he would save Irving and he fully planned to do so. Not saving Niall prevented him from even entertaining the idea of failure in doing so.

“Th-they have been surrounded by blood mages! Whose fingers snake into your mind and corrupt your thoughts!”

Mahariel sighed softly, tossing Wynne an apologetic look and turning back to the man. “What is your name?” he asked, tone gentle.

“ C-Cullen...Why?”

“ Cullen, we have fought blood mages, abominations, and the Fade alike to get here. We will not allow any blood mages to escape.” He knew that knowing and being able to use someone's name was a good way to convince them that what he was saying was sincere. Yet Cullen, in his distressed state, would not hear it.

“ No! You cannot know who is a blood mage and who is not!” he insisted.

“ His hatred of mages is so intense...” Alistair said suddenly, stepping up behind Mahariel and watching the man over his shoulder. “The death of his friends is still so fresh in his mind.” Mahariel's stomach flipped and he thought of Niall. He half glared up at Alistair for his choice of words.

“ I will save all who can be,” Mahariel replied, turning back to Cullen and looking up at him determinedly.

“ Would you really be saving anyone?” Cullen asked. “To ensure that this horror is ended...to guarantee that no abominations or blood mages live, you must  _ kill _ everyone up there.”

It seemed like his stomach couldn't decide which way was up, the way it flipped every time someone spoke. His gaze dropped to the floor and mouth opened for a moment before he closed it again.

“ I-I...” If a blood mage lived, they could just do the same thing which was happening now, they could kill more people. Everything he had done would be for nothing. More innocent people would die and this time it really would be his fault. His lip trembled. He hated being the leader of this group.

“ The only way for us to leave this tower again is to have Irving with us, correct?” Wynne asked, thankfully pulling Mahariel out of his thoughts. He nodded, though he did not look up from his boots. “Then we must do so. There is no way that we can decide on an outcome without having seen the situation.”

Mahariel nodded again, glancing up at the templar before looking back down at his feet.

“ We cannot--I won't...” He looked up at Cullen, eyes pleading, “I don't want to kill any more people.”

For a moment the man was taken aback, his hand twitched at his side as if he wished to reach out and touch the elf. There was a short moment of silence, and then Cullen sighed.

“ As you can see, I am in no position to directly influence your actions. Though I would love to deal with the mages myself...”

A gloved hand which belonged to Alistair fell lightly upon Mahariel's shoulder, and he looked up at him.

“ I-Is there any way we  _ can _ help him?” he asked. Alistair shook his head, and Wynne irritably bit out, “Time.” behind them. “Stay safe then, Cullen,” Mahariel said, turning back to the man, “Know that no one other than us is in the tower, and that this will be over soon.”

“ Will you really spare the mages?” Cullen asked. Mahariel shrugged.

“ I will try my best.”

Cullen sighed, turning to look at the stairs. “Maker turn his gaze on you, in that case,” he muttered. Mahariel nodded, turning with the rest of the group to head up the stairs. As they began to climb, Mahariel thought he heard Cullen mutter to himself with a derisive laugh, 

“ Surana would have done the same damn thing...”

~oOo~

  
  


The Harrowing Chamber was alight with energy as they entered, and a man's scream like none other he had ever heard resounded throughout the chamber. Mahariel drew his daggers without hesitation as they drew to the top of the stairs, behind him he heard Alistair draw his sword. A chill ran down his spine as the screaming stopped, and they approached a man standing among several abominations.

“ Ah, now look what we have here...intruders. I bid you welcome,” the man said. He was clearly Uldred, the catalyst of all their discontent.

“ You bid us nothing!” Mahariel snapped. “You will die for what you have done here, and I'm quite finished with these games!”

“ Fight if you must,” Uldred said gleefully. “It will just make my victory all the sweeter!”

Mahariel dashed forward, hoping to end the fight quickly, but as his blade connected with Uldred, it did not connect with flesh, but a hard armour, his blade bounced off. The elf was suddenly faced with a monster, at least two if not three times his height, which was black like night and appeared to have an armour like skin. The creature easily knocked him aside, and the last thing he saw was Wynne with the Litany in her hand before he blacked out.

Alistair positively roared at the sight of his friend falling to the ground like little more than a child's doll. He ran forward, cutting down an abomination and severely wounding another. He felt his skin tighten as Wynne cast some sort of protection spell on him, and it was not the first time he was relieved that Wynne was with them.

He heard a deep cry from the creature which Uldred had become, and a quick glance up revealed that Leliana had loosed an arrow straight into it's eye. The third and final abomination was set ablaze by Wynne, and Alistair pushed forward to swing his sword down heavily against the creature's leg, hearing a satisfying crunch at his sword broke through the armour.

“ I will freeze it; give me a moment!” Wynne called, reaching to hand the litany off to Leliana before she opened the Fade to access her powers.

“ Yeah, I'll be fine right here!” Alistair called back sarcastically, roughly pulling his sword out of the deep gash it had created in the creature's leg and jumping back to dodge a blow by it's arm.

He held his shield up as the creature swung down at him, glad for his stone skin because the blow  _ still _ shuddered to his core. He grunted, holding his shield up and checking to make sure that all of the remaining mages were still alive, before pushing roughly against the creature to try and make it lose balance. Unfazed, the creature reached forward with it's other hand as if to grab him, but he held his sword up, and it's clawed fingers closed around that instead-- and it screeched in pain as the edges cut into it.

At this moment a crackling sound began to resonate from somewhere in front of him, all at once the grasp on his sword loosened, and the pressure on his shield left completely. Alistair pulled back, severing one of the creature's fingers, just in time to see the ice growing up it's leg's. He held his shield up, but it was obviously more concerned with the fact that it was freezing solid, and that now the ice was forming on it's chest and out from Leliana's arrow.

Alistair gaped as he looked up at the creature, now frozen solid, and just as he was turning to send Wynne a look of shock and awe the woman bit out, “Now! Finish it!” And he was spurned forward to swing his sword at the creature's side, lodging his sword there. For a moment there was complete silence in the chamber, and then a similar cracking noise rose from the silence, and in an instant, the creature shattered out from where Alistair's sword had been.

Alistair stood, panting for a moment, until he was pulled back to reality by Leliana gasping and running to the, until now, forgotten elf.

“ Mahariel? Mahariel, are you all right?” She asked, and Alistair turned to see her cradling the unconscious elf's head on her lap. He swallowed thickly, glancing over at Wynne who was rushing over and then approaching himself. For a moment the First Enchanter was completely forgotten, though he pushed himself to his feet in Alistair's peripheral vision.

Wynne knelt beside Leliana, pressing a hand to Mahariel's forehead, where a steady flow of blood was emanating. Alistair took a few steps closer, his blood running cold.

Maker, don't let this happen now.

“ He has hit his head, as well as the original blow,” Wynne said softly, the gash on Mahariel's forehead healing under her hand. “I...I think he will be all right though, I will need to heal him properly later, but now--”

“ You won't heal him now?” Alistair demanded, as Wynne rose to her feet and turned to the First Enchanter who was standing behind him now. He could see Leliana running her hand through Mahariel's hair.

“ He will be all right, Alistair,” Wynne assured. “For now, we must ensure that the First Enchanter is also all right.”

Alistair looked over his shoulder at the First Enchanter, and then back at Mahariel, “You do that then,” he muttered, stepping around Wynne and over to where Leliana sat, falling awkwardly to his knees beside her. He heard Wynne begin to speak to the First Enchanter, but he felt like he had cotton in his ears. He could see that a bruise was breaking out over the elf's cheek, and his knee sat at an odd angle.

“ I believe she healed the worst of the damage,” Leliana said softly, still running her hand through Mahariel's hair, Alistair grunted in reply. “He looks so young when he lays like this,” she commented. Alistair wished she'd stop because it felt like she thought he was dead. And he could  _ not _ be dead, or dying, or anything like that.

“ I--um. I don't know how old he is actually,” Alistair replied, his voice breaking. Leliana smiled.

“ Perhaps we will ask him, when he wakes up,” she cooed.

“Y-Yeah...when he wakes up.”

~oOo~

  
  


Consciousness returned to him slowly, at first he was aware of how warm he was, but also how stiff he felt. He thought there was something sticky on his face, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He'd tried to move his fingers and they had protested. He could hear voices around him, and for a moment he couldn't even remember what he had been doing to get to where he was. He remembered a sharp blow to his side, but he did not remember what had happened before.

He slowly opened his eyes halfway, the light which entered them causing him to groan in discomfort.

“ Maker, you're awake!” Alistair, who was apparently very close to his side, exclaimed, a hand grabbed on to his arm.

“ Mmapparently...” He replied, speech slurring slightly. His tongue felt heavy. He glanced over at Alistair and then around where he was, the entry to the tower. He was lying on some sort of cot, with several layers of blankets wrapped around him.

“ You gave us quite a shock, you know,” he heard Morrigan say from his other side, where the mage stood leaning against the wall with one foot pulled up. Mahariel reached a head up to rub at his forehead in confusion.

“ M-Morrigan? But you...you weren't at the towe--” Mahariel gasped as the events leading up to his injury, at least until the templar and the stairs, came flooding back and he tried to sit up. He was pushed down roughly by Alistair.

“ Stay down, you!” the man said sternly, and Mahariel turned to him with wide eyes and his eyebrows so high they had disappeared under his bangs.

“ A-Are you okay? What happened? Did we win? Where's Leliana? Wynne?”

The rush of questions caused a strange look to come over Alistair's face, before the man laughed, his hand coming to rest over one side of his face as he did so.

“ How eloquent, Alistair,” Morrigan said.

“ Quiet, you,” Alistair glared at her, dropping his hand. “Everything is  _ fine _ . We defeated Uldred, got Irving back, Leliana has gone across the lake with Sten to bring food for when you wake up.” Mahariel opened his mouth to speak and started to try and get up again, but Alistair interrupted him, and pushed him back, “And Wynne is over there.” He thumbed back in her direction, “Talking to Irving to see if she can come with us. Apparently, she finds running up single handedly against an abomination heroic, or stupid, either way she's coming with us I think.”

Mahariel sighed, looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath.

“ Is that templar okay?”

“ Mm-hm.”

“ G...Good.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, Alistair keeping his hand on Mahariel's arm as if hoping it would tie him to the bed.

“ Might I make a suggestion?” Morrigan cut in suddenly, causing both men to look up at her, she was looking at Mahariel with cold eyes. 

“ The next time you wish to run in front of a  _ pride _ abomination, you do not.” Mahariel looked at Alistair, who he expected to disagree in some way, but he found the man was looking at him solemnly.

“ I  _ would  _ prefer you let me do the crazy heroics,” he put in, “I've got the sword  _ and _ the shield.” Mahariel sighed, looking away and shrugging his shoulders.

“ I will do my best, lethallin,” he muttered, catching Morrigan's eyebrow rising slightly at his words. Thankfully she did not comment. “Will the mages help us?” He turned back to Alistair, who grinned at him as he did so.

“ Yup, looks like. I think they really appreciate you not coming in and just murdering them all.”

“ He could not, for he was not conscious to do so,” Morrigan replied sarcastically.

“ Well we certainly weren't going to murder them either,” Alistair snapped back, his hand moving from Mahariel's arm long enough for him to sit up.

“ Can we  _ not _ argue?” he asked, ignoring Alistair's hand on his shoulder to try and push him down again. The warmth of the blankets was starting to annoy him, he felt like he was in a fire. To his surprise both of his companions fell silent, and when he looked up from pushing all the blankets off of him he found that Morrigan was studying him curiously, and Alistair was watching him with a look of great sadness. The man's hand shook on his shoulder.

“ Oh thank Andraste!” Leliana cried, as she came into view suddenly, dropping the basket of food she had at the foot of the cot and rounding it so she was on the opposite side of Alistair. She leaned forward and pulled Mahariel into a tight hug, but he couldn't quite bring himself to return it, simply patting her on the arm. “I was so worried!”

“ I'm all right, Leliana,” Mahariel said, chuckling nervously.

“ Oh you fool!” she replied, pulling out of the hug but holding onto his shoulders. She looked at him from arm's length. “Do not go running in alone like that again!” She leaned forward again to press a kiss to his forehead. “We were afraid we would lose you!” Mahariel heard a sharp intake of breath from Alistair. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

“ I am fine! I have no pain, and I would like to return to Redcliffe before it is too late. Can we do that please?” He did not like being the centre of attention; he appreciated that Sten was leaned against the centre pillar several feet away, but the Qunari was also staring at him.

“ Fine, let us be on our way then,” Morrigan said, from behind Leliana, who withdrew from Mahariel completely and turned to glare at her with Alistair.

“ We can't just 'be on our way,'” Alistair objected. “He needs rest.”

“ What he needs, oh worrisome one, is fresh air, and to be out of this insufferable tower,” Morrigan replied, her gaze lingering on Mahariel for a moment before switching back to Alistair. “The healer has done her work, now we must go. Unless, you wish for that child to perish after all?”

“ Of course not!” Alistair blustered, pushing himself to his feet and knocking the stool which he had been sitting upon over in his hurry. Leliana stood up as well, though she remained silent as she watched the mage and the knight argue.

Mahariel sighed. He was exhausted with all of this arguing. He wanted to leave all of this stone building and return to the road to get their quest out of the way. Now that the danger was dealt with he found himself replaying the events of the last day in his mind. He wondered if there had been a way to save Niall, and he remembered killing 'Tamlen'. He was still hurt by the fact that Leliana had not remembered who he was in the Fade, and he thought with a heavy heart about all of the innocent men he had killed.

Shifting on the cot and standing up shakily from it, Mahariel was dismayed to find his cuirass was not on him. “Where is my armour?” Frustrated, Mahariel crossed his arms over his chest, interrupting the shouting match which had consisted of mostly Alistair shouting, and Morrigan egging him on. All three turned to look at him, Leliana and Alistair were apparently surprised to see him standing.

“ It's...over by your pack.” Alistair blinked dumbly at him for a moment, pointing over to the wall a few feet away from the cot where his pack and cuirass lay. Mahariel shook his head slightly, turning to go retrieve his things.

“ Thank you,” he muttered exasperatedly, leaning over to pick up his cuirass and pull it over his head.

“ We, um, we really shouldn't leave yet; you were really badly injured,” Alistair tried, as Mahariel fastened his cuirass around his chest.

“ We're leaving.”

“Ah. Okay, alright then.” The man looked away, trying both Leliana and Morrigan for help, but Morrigan just smiled lopsidedly at the elf, and Leliana just shook her head.

Wynne approached.

“ Are we all ready to head out then?” she asked, watching Mahariel closely. Alistair sighed dramatically. Apparently he was the only one who cared whether Mahariel dropped dead on the road back to Redcliffe or not.

“ Yes, yes, we're ready. Let's go,” he replied morosely, throwing his arms up in the air and turning to walk past the elderly mage.

“ Are you quite all right, Mahariel?” Wynne asked kindly, as the elf fastened his pack around his waist. He looked up at her for a moment, before looking past her at nothing in particular and then striding towards the door.

“ Quite,” he replied. He didn't want to speak to the First Enchanter or Greagoir or anyone else.

He just wanted to leave the mage tower behind him.


	15. Campfire Chats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An inbetween chapter.
> 
> Mahariel refuses to deal with the things which are bothering him. He doesn't mind sharing the things he found in the tower with his companions, however.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as usual to Witchybee.
> 
> I'm sure these chapters have been a lot more coherent with her help.

The return to camp was longer going than Mahariel would have liked. First they had to recruit the right mages, though Wynne had thankfully helped with that, and then they had to figure out how to get across the lake in the tiny boat which the tower used for travel. Mahariel had waylaid the group as well though, because he had asked to go back into the tower to “help” when he'd really just gone to pick up the items he'd deemed acceptable to bring back to the camp to sell. Though, to Mahariel's relief, they had not needed to deal with Ser Carroll again, and the boat rower had not spoken a word to him their entire trip over.

Mahariel sighed softly as he returned to the camp after bathing in a nearby stream, once Morrigan had firmly disputed his fear of “things” being in it because of it being attached to the lake. Sten's large body blocked his entrance into the camp, his posture aggressive as usual.

“ The Blight. How will you end it?” he asked gruffly. Mahariel frowned, startled by the Qunari's sudden interest.

“ Well...we'll kill the archdemon, won't we?” He folded his arms across his chest, searching the man's face for a reaction. There was none.

“ Is that all? It is surrounded by an ocean of darkspawn. How will you reach it? If you reach it, how will you slay it?” Mahariel opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted, “You  _ say _ you are a Grey Warden. I have heard stories of this order.”

Mahariel's mouth stayed open, though his expression turned indignant. “You realise stories are  _ stories _ , do you not? Travelling from mouth to mouth until they are no longer true? The people of this land also believe a woman was burned at the stake and went to sit beside a fictitious man.”

“ I expected there to be some truth to the stories of great strategists and peerless warriors. So far I am not impressed,” Sten continued. Mahariel's mouth snapped shut, and he looked around him to see if anyone was paying attention. He was disappointed to see they were not, apparently he had to deal with this on his own.

“ I am not the one who stayed off to the side when those journeying to the tower were chosen, I assume for  _ fear _ of the mages.” Mahariel replied, his tone even but strained. Sten's eyes narrowed.

“ You call me a coward,” Sten stated plainly. Mahariel gritted his teeth.

“ Would you like to fight me about it? Or would you like to accept that it was done, and get a move on because there are  _ darkspawn  _ and an  _ archdemon  _ to fight?” he asked, his fingers digging into his arm with the effort of keeping his tone even with the Qunari. He had noticed before that raised voices and emotion didn't sway the man, only facts and plain statements. Now, Sten looked down his nose at him, though he seemed to be considering what Mahariel had said.

“ There are none right now,” Sten countered.

“And there will continue to be none, if we don't get a move on.” Mahariel stepped around the man, walking passed him without being stopped or turning around.

Tamlen ran up to greet him as he entered the light of the fire, jumping up on him and knocking him right over with his enthusiasm.

“ Oof,” Mahariel groaned, feeling the hard ground hit his aching ribs, a few of which having been broken. The dog began cleaning his face enthusiastically, to which he sputtered and attempted to move the large animal off of him.

“ Hey now!” he heard Alistair call, his footfalls coming closer as he came to rescue him,  “ Off now boy, go, shoo!” Alistair said sternly, to which the dog whined and relinquished the elf, taking a few paces away from him.

Mahariel looked up at the dark sky for a moment, the wind knocked out of him. Alistair came into view, offering his hand. He gladly took it, allowing himself to be pulled up and taking a shaking breath to steady himself.

“ You all right? I think he was a bit excited to see you.” Alistair looked over to the dog, who had curled up near the fire and was now watching them intently. Mahariel nodded, looking at the dog for a moment and then shrugging, before turning back to Alistair. “Are you all right?” Alistair repeated.

“ Yes,” he replied, pushing his hands into the pockets of his breeches and staring into the fire.

“ Oh...Good.” Alistair was watching him, perturbed by the way he was being shut out, and how quiet and on edge Mahariel had been since the tower. Mahariel began chewing his tongue, and he was clenching and unclenching his hands in his breech pockets.

The silence which stretched between them was so palpable he could have cut it, but he was afraid to break it. There were so many things about to tumble out, but he wanted to keep it all to himself.

He pulled a small white square out of his pocket and held it out in his closed hand, interrupting Alistair starting to say his name.

“ What is it?” Alistair asked, holding his hand open underneath Mahariel's so he could drop the square into his hand. Mahariel shrugged. Alistair took it and looked closely at it. “It's a rune.” He frowned. “Why are you giving it to  _ me _ ?”

The elf's bottom lip poked out slightly, but he didn't speak, his stomach rolling uncomfortably. Because it reminded him of Alistair, because he'd been afraid for a moment in the Fade that he'd never see Alistair again, because he'd also be afraid for a moment when he awoke after that he would be doing so alone.

Alistair's gloved hand fell upon his head and began to ruffle his hair. Not so long ago Mahariel had hated when he did it, but now it made him feel safe.

“ Thank you,” Alistair muttered, his voice breaking, “You know, for a minute there, I didn't think you'd be getting up.” Mahariel inhaled shakily. “That stupid abomination hit you and you went flying and I...” Alistair's hand stilled on his head and the man slumped forward slightly. “I really don't think I could do this without you, you know?”

Mahariel nodded, his gaze dropping to his feet. He felt Alistair's hand slip off of his head and grip his shoulder for a moment before he retracted it. Mahariel sat so that Alistair wouldn't see that his eyes were glazing over with tears, and he pulled his legs up to his chest and hugged them to him so he could rest his forehead on his knees.

“ Hey...” Alistair crouched down beside him awkwardly, they were on a slight hill, and put a hand on his back. “Do...you want to talk about what happened with Niall?” he asked, unsure what he was supposed to be doing. Mahariel shook his head against his knees, not raising his head.

Mahariel muttered something against his legs, but it was so quiet Alistair couldn't hear.

“ What was that?”

“ You didn't want me to be there,” Mahariel repeated louder, though he still didn't raise his head. “You were with that woman and you thought I had come to take you away.” Alistair felt guilty for a moment, unsure what to say.

“ I never told you that I had a sister in Denerim, did I?” Alistair asked, trying to keep his voice steady. The elf slowly lifted his head from his knees and looked up at Alistair with surprise.

“ You do? So...she was...real?”

Alistair laughed at this. “No, not really. I think that was just how I  _ want _ her to be... Maybe.” He was trying to ignore that Mahariel's eyes were red and that he could feel him trembling when he breathed.

“ I...I don't like the Fade at  _ all, _ ”  Mahariel said definitively. Not for the first time since they defeated the sloth demon, Alistair wondered what Mahariel had done all alone in the Fade while rescuing them all.

They fell into silence again, during which Alistair retracted his hand again and sat down properly next to the elf, just far enough away that they could feel the fire but not feel scorched by it. Leliana returned from her own journey down to the river, as did Wynne.

“ Have you met her? Your sister?” Mahariel finally asked, no longer clutching his legs to himself, but still looking absolutely miserable. He was watching Tamlen nap now.

“ No.”

“ But you want to.”

The statement was left hanging between them for a moment. Now Alistair's stomach was fluttering.

“ We're  _ way _ too busy to--”

“ We'll be in Denerim at some time, right? That's where the kings live,” Mahariel interrupted, looking over at Alistair and resting his head on his knees again sideways.

“ Really? We could do that?” he asked, turning to Mahariel with hope in his eyes. Mahariel gave a small nod as Leliana came over from her tent where she'd dropped off her soap.

“ I am so glad to be out from that tower,” she admitted, sitting next to Mahariel, who turned to her as she spoke. Alistair had fallen silent, but he was grinning into the fire like a maniac.

“ When we were in the chantry I found you something,” Mahariel said, causing Leliana to giggle softly and tilt her head.

“ Were you collecting again?” she asked. Mahariel had no idea what she meant, but reached into his side pack and pulled out a golden necklace with an amulet on the string, holding it out to her. Leliana looked at it warmly, taking it and turning it around in her hand. “It is a chantry amulet, is it not?” Mahariel shrugged. “You  _ do _ enjoy giving me chantry things, don't you?” she asked.

“ Is it wrong?” Mahariel asked, sitting up straighter and straightening out his legs in anticipation of needing to apologise.

“ Oh, no, I think it is sweet that you keep finding things for me.” she explained. She leaned forward, catching Alistair's attention, “Does he do the same for you?” she asked. Alistair almost made a move to his chest, where his mother's amulet sat under his armour, but quickly aborted the movement and just laughed.

“ Since day one.”

Leliana smiled at Mahariel, who had turned to pout at Alistair.

“ Travelling with you has certainly taught me just how wrong some are about the Dalish,” she said, to which Mahariel whirled to turn to her with a frown on his face, and Alistair jumped to his feet.

“ I'd better prepare supper, before it's too late,” he said, escaping to the food stores. Mahariel turned and glared after him for a moment, before turning back to Leliana. His posture tense, expression guarded.

“ You are not at all savage. An--”

“ What?” Mahariel asked, shuffling away from her and eyeing the thing he'd just given her with narrowed eyes.

“ If my people were more open to interacting with yours, we could do away with such misconceptions,” she admitted, looking down at her amulet with affection, and apparently not aware of Mahariel's distress. He felt anger prickling at his senses.

“ You assume we-- Why should we want to interact with shemlen?” Mahariel asked sharply, glaring at the ground somewhere near Leliana's feet. Leliana looked up now, smiling at him indulgently. He turned so he was glaring at Alistair, who was spending far too much time shuffling through the food.

“ Surely peace is attainable between our people, despite our unhappy history,” Leliana offered. Mahariel huffed. “Many city folk talk about how wonderful it must be to live simpler lives, closer to the earth. They could learn from the Dalish.”

“ My people are not  _ learning _ tools.” Mahariel gritted his teeth, pulling his knees up to his chest again and refusing to look at the woman. Leliana gasped softly.

“ I...I am sorry. I did not mean it like that. I was not trying to belittle your culture...” she replied, sounding chastened. “I have met very few elves, and those I have met were... pledged to the service of Orlesian nobles.”

“ Slaves,” Mahariel replied flatly, disinterested with the conversation, and disappointed with Leliana's mindset.

“ They are serfs,” Leliana explained with confusion. “There is no slavery in Orlais.”

“ All right,” Mahariel muttered, shrugging his shoulders.

“ Elven servants are well compensated for their services,” she assured him. “Some of them are richer than humans. A well trained elven--”

“ Stop,” Mahariel interrupted, feeling he was about to be sick. “I wish to hear no further of this.” Leliana sighed, looking down at the trinket in her hands.

“ I am sorry. I meant for this conversation to go in a much different direction,” she admitted. She noticed that Mahariel was not looking her direction, apparently focusing some place past the fire.

“ Start again then,” Mahariel replied after a time. “Why did you come to Ferelden, if Orlais is so wonderful?” he asked, turning to face her at last, though his expression was clearly disinterested. Leliana watched him for a moment before answering, turning back to stare at her lap in order to escape the look on the elf's face.

“ My mother is from Denerim, and I consider myself a Fereldan.” she explained, “Mother served an Orlesian noble woman who lived here when Orlais ruled.” Mahariel hmphed softly beside her. “When Orlais was defeated and the common folk began to resent the presence of any Orlesian, the lady returned to Orlais and took my mother with her. I was born in Orlais, and did not set foot in Ferelden until much later. Mother was always telling me stories of her homeland; I think she missed it.”

“ Why did she leave, if she missed it?” Mahariel asked, not sounding interested, but at least he didn't sound angry anymore.

“ She had served Cecilie--the lady Cecilie-- for many years and was loyal to her. Cecilie was a good person; she was always kind to me.”

“ What happened to your mother, then?” Mahariel asked, splaying his fingers over his knees and resting his head on them so he could look at her and rest his head at the same time. Leliana looked at him, and the look in her eyes took him aback slightly. She sighed.

“ Mother died when I was very young.” She watched him, relieved to see his expression had relaxed. “Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else.”

“ Are you telling me all of this because you feel guilty for before?” Mahariel asked suddenly, bursting her train of thought.

“ What? Why would I do that?” she asked, momentarily indignant. Mahariel stretched out his fingers in a half hearted gesture to halt her emotions.

“ You seem so well guarded. I couldn't think of a better reason for you to tell me.”

“ Why...it is because I like you, Mahariel, that I share these things with you. I am poorly acquainted with your people, and I am truly sorry for that, but I do like you.” Leliana smiled now, and Mahariel's lips twitched upwards slightly as well.

“ You have told many stories around the campfire before, and I have heard you singing to yourself as well. Was this something you learned in Orlais?” he asked, referring mostly to the tale of the first blight which Alistair had enthusiastically had her tell three times since they'd started their journey.

“ That is because Lady Cecilie had me study music and dance to entertain her, as a bard I learnt many stories and songs.”

Mahariel nodded slowly.

“ Do you remember your mother?” he asked curiously.

“ I...I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother,” Leliana admitted. Mahariel frowned, hearing Alistair begin to sidle up to the other side of the fire so he could cook, and then Wynne interrupting him and insisting she would make herself useful.

“ You remember nothing?” he asked, straightening up slightly. Leliana thought for a moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

“ Strangely, the only thing I remember of my mother is her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet amongst her clothes.” She pulled the amulet necklace which Mahariel had given her over her head and turned to him. “Small while Ferelden wild flowers, with a sweet scent. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais.”

Mahariel nodded slowly, turning back to the fire with a frown on his face as Wynne's head poked over it.

“ What about your mother?” Leliana asked, suddenly eager to change the subject. Mahariel shrugged.

“ She was so sad that my father was killed by shemlen that she birthed me, walked into the forest, and then disappeared,” he answered plainly. Leliana gasped and moved to wrap her arms around him. Wynne looked at him in shock over the fire.

“ I am  _ so _ sorry!” Leliana exclaimed, a few feet away Alistair was frowning at him.

“ I never knew her, so it isn't really important,” Mahariel replied, shrugging with disinterest. Leliana pulled away, looking at him with dismay.

“ Surely, it is  _ very  _ important,” Leliana insisted. At this moment, however, Morrigan wandered over to their side of the camp. Mahariel pushed himself to his feet, toying with the carved halla on his necklace.

“ Morrigan.” he called. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, gazing at the expressions of confusion and upset on the faces of the others around the fire, as he approached.

“ Yes?” she asked, folding her arms, completely aware that she was being used as an escape from whatever conversation was just being had. She turned to go right back to her side of the camp, Mahariel followed her.

“ I found some things for you in the tower.”

“ You don't say...”


	16. Enter Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their way back to Redcliffe the now, significantly, larger group is ambushed when it sits down for lunch. But the members of Mahariel's group have a little trouble deciding what exactly to do with their attackers. 
> 
> Mahariel agonises about having to kill more actual people.
> 
> Beta'd by Witchybee

It was midday of the second day on their journey back to Redcliffe, and Mahariel was feeling antsy. He strode on ahead of the others, even though Alistair kept warning him to fall back into the group. Their group was slow moving, the mages still tired from their ordeal at the tower, and his own companions tired from the swiftness of their original journey to said tower. Mahariel insisted he was scouting, though he knew exactly how to scout and was doing no such thing.

It wasn't that Mahariel needed space, having lived among the Dalish his entire life he was used to close quarters with groups of elves. It was the proximity to so many strangers, who were all human. Greagoir had sent five templars with them to “keep and eye” on the mages, and they kept jumping every time a mage so much as sneezed. The fifteen mages they had with them, not including the First Enchanter, were also on edge.

He just wanted to be free of the tension and the people he didn't know. He'd heard one of the mages call him a knife-ear and almost removed _his_ ear for the trouble.

Not for the first time that day, Alistair caught up to him. Tamlen, who was trotting at Mahariel's side, looked up at him panting and tilted his head as if to ask what he wanted.

“Look,” Alistair began, “I know you don't feel comfortable with all of these er-um...” He motioned awkwardly behind him.

“Shemlen,” Mahariel muttered darkly, whittling a stick he'd picked up with the knife he kept in his boot “just in case”. Alistair sighed.

“Yes, I guess, _those_ , but I think you should at least walk with us. We're talking about taking midday and I don't feel...safe, with you wandering around up here,” the man explained. Mahariel shrugged, motioning with the stick to Tamlen.

“The dog is here,” he said boredly. He tossed the stick several feet up so that the dog would run after it. He stopped walking, tilting his left foot up so he could slip the blade back into it's hiding place.

“Yeah--I know, I just...” Alistair huffed and crossed his arms. “Would you stop being so tense and just come back to eat lunch with us, please?”

Mahariel looked up at Alistair out of the corner of his eye, planting his foot down on the ground so that a cloud of dust rose up slightly from it. Tamlen brought the stick back, lay on the ground, and began to chew on it enthusiastically. Mahariel glanced at the dog and then back to Alistair, his lip poking out involuntarily in a pout. He began to kick invisible stones at his feet, crossing his own arms as well. 

“Look, I didn't catch what that...Sheridan fellow called you, but he won't be eating with _us_ , now will he?” Alistair dropped his arms to his side, waiting patiently for Mahariel to come around. For a moment Mahariel simply pursed his lips, with his pout still on his face, and then he began fiddling with his bangs. 

“No,” Mahariel replied sourly, “It'll only be you, me, Morrigan, Wynne, Leliana, and Sten if we're lucky...” 

Alistair half smiled, catching on to Mahariel's complaint. “If you'd like, you can eat on your own, but I really do think you should eat at least nearby. Alright?” 

The elf nodded, knowing he'd been silly because Morrigan and Wynne did not get on, Sten ate alone, and Leliana didn't get on with Morrigan either. For some reason he just wanted to be left to his own devices.

“Let's head back then,” Alistair offered, turning as Mahariel turned and placing a supporting hand on his back as they headed back to the group. 

“I have never known so many humans in my life,” Mahariel complained softly. Alistair chuckled.

“We multiply quite quickly unfortunately,” he joked. Mahariel made a short sound of agreement as they approached their group again, heading over to a rather secluded area and sitting on the grass alongside the road. Alistair hovered over him for a moment as he pulled a loaf of bread out of his pack and began to break it. “Uh...do you want me to...?”

Mahariel looked up at him, halfway to taking a bite of the end of his bread and tilting his head.

“You are my lethallin, you are always welcome to share my bread,” Mahariel frowned in confusion. Did humans not have the concept of someone of companionship or camaraderie who was accepted as blood? He had been trying to explain the concept to Alistair since they'd left the tower and he still didn't seem to get it.

“Well, I don't need your bread. I have my own, you know,” Alistair said, sitting awkwardly on the ground because his armour made it hard to do so. Mahariel sighed as Alistair pulled bread from his own pack and offered the man a chunk of cheese to go with it. “Where did you get that?” Alistair asked, taking the chunk and looking at it closely.

“I found it at the inn near the tower.”

“In the kitchen?” Alistair asked, eyebrow raised even as he took a bite out of it. Mahariel shrugged.

“I didn't like the taste of it, so you can have it,” he said dismissively, nibbling on his bread and feeling quite satisfied with that. 

The twosome sat in silence as they ate, Mahariel's gaze roaming over the group behind Alistair, broken into subgroups and single people who were eating on their own.

“I canno' wai' unhil we get ba' to Re'cliffe,” Alistair said suddenly, his mouth full of bread and cheese.

“They will not have any more supplies than we do,” Mahariel replied, misinterpreting the man's enthusiasm.

“No, I mean--”

“Help! Oh please help!” a woman's voice called.

Mahariel was on his feet in second, followed by a cursing Alistair who had much trouble getting up from the ground. Every person in their group had turned their heads in the direction of the woman, who was running down the road towards them from the direction they were headed in.

Mahariel quickly made eye contact with Morrigan and Leliana, who both got up from their separate eating places and headed to where Mahariel and Alistair were now going.

“Nobody else leave. Stay on guard. Do not wander off!” Mahariel called, the clarity and volume of his voice startling most of his companions and a few of the newcomers. Tamlen trotted up to his side, growling lowly in the direction of the woman's voice.

“Please help!” she called again, and Mahariel quickly made his way down the road with his companions in toe.

“Who is there?” he asked sharply, drawing his knife as he spotted smoke slithering up in the distance. 

A woman in her early thirties came around a bend from behind a rock, looking as if she had been walking for days.

“Thank the Maker!” she cried, getting to just outside of arms reach of the group before Mahariel held his dagger forward defensively. She looked down at the dagger for a moment before looking up at Mahariel again. “Please help us, they've attacked the wagon. Please.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, unsure what it was that she wanted. Or why she thought she would get it out of complete strangers.

“Please, I'll take you to them, you _have_ to help,” she begged. 

“Come on, let's go help,” Alistair said, but there were alarm bells going on in Mahariel's head. Tamlen was still growling next to him, but he was growling _at_ the woman. A quick glance at Leliana showed she didn't care for the woman's pleas either, which was quite unusual.

“Alistair, I don't think--”

The woman turned away, and as Alistair moved to take a step to follow her an arrow shot out of the forest, bouncing off of the platemail which the tower had afforded him. Mahariel jumped, unsheathing his other dagger. 

“Ambush!” he called, not at all surprised when the woman turned around with her own weapon in hand. She was not dressed for the fight though, and one quick stab to her chest had her done in.

Alistair had sprung into action, as at least five more people came running out from behind the bolder and out from behind trees, he pulled out his sword and shield and began cutting them down. 

Morrigan had already taken out the archer who had shot at Alistair, and Leliana had pulled out her daggers for close range as well. Mahariel could hear commotion at the camp, which meant there were more there, but he could also hear Sten's battle cries being called out, so he was not worried. 

“These are not simple bandits,” Leliana warned from his side, before seemingly fading into shadow as she moved to stab a man who had tried to sneak up behind Alistair in the back.

Mahariel clenched his teeth, lashing out at a man who came up along side Morrigan.

“So what does that mean?” he called, as Morrigan froze a few women who had appeared out of nowhere.

“It means,” Leliana huffed, “We keep a few alive.” She elbowed a man hard in the chest and he went down. “And ask why they are here.”

Another man came up on Morrigan's side, and Mahariel slammed the pommel of his dagger against his temple without looking twice at him. He fell to the ground with a loud thud.

In the next moment, Wynne and a mage came around the corner, and she, Morrigan and the mage successfully froze the rest of their assailants.

For a moment it was very quiet, except for their heavy breathing.

“Wh....what now?” Mahariel asked, looking around at the men and women who were strewn about their feet. There were at eight people in total. Wynne came up beside him and shook her head with a sigh.

“There are eight more back at camp. Are you all all right?” she asked, looking at them each in turn. They all nodded. Morrigan frowned down at the man who Mahariel had last dropped.

“Now we find whoever will be well enough to confess to their reason for being here, and we take them back to camp to question them,” Leliana explained, answering Mahariel's earlier question. She looked down at the man who Morrigan was scrutinizing.

“He will work,” she said with the nod of her chin in the man's direction. Mahariel looked over as well, the man was on his side, his temple bleeding steadily. Mahariel gasped. 

“H-He is an elf!” he exclaimed, looking around at the other bodies, dead or alive, and noticing he was in fact the _only_ elf of the group.

“And no doubt the leader,” Morrigan put in. “He is much better equipped than the others of his party, though he did not see _you_ coming, Mahariel.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and his face went red. 

Leliana began giving instructions to Wynne and the other mage, who was also a healer, on which of the men to heal, and to Morrigan to put them under a sleeping spell until they were back at camp. 

Mahariel swallowed thickly and began checking the area to make sure that there were no others lagging in the thin woods along the road, or behind the boulders in the pass they were in. He was wandering completely aimlessly after a while, checking behind trees he had already checked behind. Their “prisoners” had been removed, the dead pulled off of the road, and Mahariel hadn't seen anyone else for several minutes.

“Hey, are you okay?” Alistair asked, sneaking up on him so well that he jumped and spun around with his hands on his daggers.

“I...” He shook his head violently, releasing his daggers and balling his hands at his sides. “N-No! Taking prisoners is what shemlen do, and we can't... Shouldn't...I...”

A young member of his clan had been taken when she walked away from the group when he was much younger. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, not liking the parallels his mind was drawing.

“These people just tried to _kill us_ , Mahariel,” Alistair explained gently. “Don't you want to know _why_?”

“Well obviously Loghain has found out about us. I do not see the need for this...”

Alistair put a hand down gently on Mahariel's shoulder. The elf dropped his arms to the side again.

“If I promise to make sure that none of them get killed, will you relax and come back to the camp?” Alistair leaned forward to try and get a good look at Mahariel's face from under his bangs. Mahariel wasn't helping very much, with his head bowed so low. Still, he caught the slightest of nods, and so he slung his arm over Mahariel's shoulders and began guiding him back to camp. “We moved off of the road just in case there is a second group or something. You did quite a number on your _friend_ , but Leliana thinks we'll be able to get our information out of him, and Morrigan actually agrees.”

“Friend?” Mahariel asked softly, looking up at Alistair, who looked at him cautiously for a moment. Mahariel's bottom lip stuck out and he looked back at the ground, “Oh, the elf,” he muttered before looking back up at Alistair. “He's not my friend,” he said matter-of-factly, which made Alistair laugh.

“I know, I was just—Never mind.” He chuckled, shaking his head. He got that feeling that if he had been anyone else Mahariel would have taken his words personally. 

As they stepped back into the outskirts of their camp, where Mahariel was relieved to account for every mage and templar, Leliana came up to them.

“I think we should wake them up soon,” she said, looking warily at Mahariel. Alistair withdrew his arm from around Mahariel's shoulders and nodded.

“Yes, let's get this over with, but Leliana, I have an agreement with Mahariel that no harm will come to them,” Alistair explained sternly. Leliana sighed, looking between the two of them.

“It will not be easy to get information out of anyone that way, but,” She looked Mahariel squarely in the eye, “If that is your wish.”

Mahariel nodded slowly. He did not want to hurt any more people.

~oOo~

Mahariel stood over the three men who they had managed to “rescue”. They were all well tied due to Leliana's efforts, and Morrigan stood by ready to wake them whenever they were ready to interrogate them. There was still dried blood on the elf's face. The other two men appeared to have been incapacitated without doing any perceivable damage.

“Leliana...I--”

“I understand, Mahariel, I will question them. You may stand nearby if you wish.” Leliana cooed, making Mahariel feel weak and stupid. Alistair stood to his left with his arms folded and glared down at the sleeping men, Leliana stood at their feet. With the shortest of nods Mahariel wandered off, close enough that he could still see them, but not within earshot. 

Mahariel watched as, with a wave of her hand, Morrigan woke the three captives. The two humans appeared belligerent, he could hear their yelling, but the elf appeared calm. With a sigh he sat on the grass, legs splayed out in front of him and arms folded around himself so tightly he tucked his hands under his arms. He leaned forward, staring at the grass between his feet. 

He wasn't cut out to be a leader. He knew that. He didn't like making decisions, taking the lead, or taking people hostage so he could learn their secrets. He'd definitely caught Morrigan's raised eyebrow as he walked away, certainly she thought he was weak too. It wasn't the first time that he felt resentment towards Alistair for not taking the lead, for not accepting his role as senior Warden and telling him what to do.

Mahariel sat there for several minutes, eventually uncurling his arms from around himself and inspecting his armour as if it needed to be done for the fifth time that day. After a while he heard heavy footfalls approaching.

“You're going to want to hear this,” Alistair said, standing over him. Mahariel looked up with a frown on his face, Alistair continued, “Well, you were right. Apparently they were some elite assassins hired by Teyrn Loghain and Arl Howe.” Mahariel nodded, his eyes wide and questioning, “Well, the two humans don't seem to want a lick to do with us, so we...could just let them go, but they may report to Loghain.”

“And the other?” Mahariel asked, ignoring the implications of Alistair's words.

“Well, you may want to come over here and talk to him yourself,” Alistair replied, reaching forward to help him up as if expecting Mahariel wouldn't protest. With the slightest tilt of his head, Mahariel allowed himself to be pulled up and wandered back over to the interrogation group with Alistair.

“Ah, this must be the handsome Mahariel I have heard so much about.” 

Mahariel just about jumped out of his skin as the elf on the ground spoke, surprised that he was the first one to do so, and also surprised by his thick accent. The elf, whose hair was blond and his skin dark, sat on the ground cross legged with his arms tied behind his back. There was a human on either side of him, though they both appeared to be glaring at the ground intently.

“Don't talk to him,” Alistair snapped protectively, glaring down at the elf in disgust. Mahariel glanced between Alistair and the elf, confused.

“Oh, I apologise. I did not realise you were...Involved,” the elf replied. “How else do you plan for me to tell him my proposal? Shall I tell you, and then you can whisper it in his ear?” Mahariel frowned as Alistair clenched his hand into a fist.

“Now listen here you--”

“Why would he whisper it in my ear? I am right here, aren't I?” Mahariel asked, kneeling down to meet the elf face to face. The elf chuckled, an eyebrow slowly raising.

“Maybe _I_ should whisper it then?”

“That is enough now,” Leliana protested. “Just tell him what you told us, and skip the silliness.”

“It is not silliness, that I assure you,” the elf insisted. Leliana huffed.

“This man is Zevran, an Antivan Crow,” she explained, glaring down at him before turning to Mahariel. “He has told us that he wishes to...join us,” she said with disgust. Mahariel looked up at her, balancing on the balls of his feet.

“Why?” he asked, turning back to Zevran.

“Well, since I was so valiantly defeated, by you I hear, Grey Warden, I have... failed my contract, and so my life is forfeit. If you don't kill me, which this lovely lady has said you will not, the Crows will.” Zevran smiled easily after he spoke, meeting Mahariel's gaze with his own.

“Won't you just finish your contract later?” Mahariel asked, tilting his head questioningly.

“I think my life with the Crows is over now. I have failed once, and that is enough. I didn't really _choose_ to join the Crows in the first place. The only way to prevent my...untimely death is to sign up with someone who cannot be touched.”

“So he wants a cheap bodyguard,” Alistair put in sourly, crossing his arms and continuing to glare down at the elf. Mahariel looked up at him, blinking at him for a moment. Alistair sighed heavily, his expression softening as he looked at his companion.

Mahariel looked back at Zevran. “You would leave your clan, who you have claimed loyalty to?” he asked, causing Zevran's eyebrow to wander up again.

“I am a _very_ loyal person,” Zevran assured him. Alistair snorted. “Up until the point when I am expected to die for failing. Would you fault me for that, Grey Warden?”

Mahariel's mouth opened slightly, like he was going to answer, and then fell shut again. He sat back on his bottom, watching Zevran with a confused look on his face. Zevran looked back at him, meeting his gaze evenly and without reservation.

“Ey, are you lot gonna let us go or not?” the human on Zevran's left asked suddenly, glaring at Mahariel as he spoke. Zevran turned to look at the man with boredom. Alistair sighed.

“It's your decision, Mahariel,” he said, looking down at him with clear reservation as he stood up.

“I think we should let them go,” Mahariel said, having obviously given no thought to the question what so ever. Morrigan rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms, although he didn't see. “I'm going to untie Zevran as well,” he added, moving around the three sitting men.

“Really? Do you think that is wise, Mahariel?” Leliana asked, even as she moved to untie the man on Zevran's right. Mahariel pulled one of his daggers out of it's sheathe and quickly cut Zevran's bonds. Zevran automatically began rubbing his wrists, which were slightly red from the rope.

“Are these men loyal to your clan?” Mahariel asked, as Zevran turned to face him without moving to stand yet. Zevran shrugged, a look of amusement on his face.

“No, they are just thugs who I picked up to help with the ambush. They are certainly of no danger to you, Grey Warden.”

Mahariel reached out a hand to help Zevran to his feet as Leliana began untying the other captive's bonds. The blond elf thankfully took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up, before clasping Mahariel's arm with his other hand.

“I am Keladryl Mahariel, and as long as you stay loyal to my friends and me, you can stay with us,” Mahariel said, with a sweet smile. Zevran smiled back as the second human captive stood beside him.

“Now get going then,” Leliana snapped, “Shoo.” Neither man took much convincing, they were on their way before she'd even gotten through her sentence. Alistair sighed, moving to stand over Mahariel's shoulder.

“Well then, Keladryl,” Zevran began, eliciting three sets of eyes to move to Mahariel as if expecting him to blow up. “Grey Warden,” he amended, “You have my pledge of loyalty, until such a time as you choose to be rid of me, I am at your side.” Mahariel's smile grew, and he nodded, apparently not at all bothered by the other elf using his first name. Alistair huffed.

“Is this _really_ a good idea, Mahariel?” he asked, as Zevran released Mahariel's arm. Mahariel turned to Alistair with a pleading look on his face.

“Lethallin, we need all the help we can get, and he says his clan wants to kill him,” Mahariel replied, causing Alistair to sigh heavily.

“The Crows are not a cla--”

“Come!” Zevran exclaimed, interrupting Alistair's protest. “I will help you formulate better protective strategies for this camp of yours.” He wrapped an arm around Mahariel and began leading him away, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Alistair. “You were wide open before, this must be fixed.” 

Alistair moved to follow them, his arm outstretched, but Leliana placed a warm hand on his arm.

“Let Mahariel have his fun,” she said softly. “I will keep a close eye on him.” 

“And _I_ will be checking the food and drink stores _much_ more frequently,” Morrigan put in, her arms still crossed as she glared after the two elves, deeply concerned for Mahariel's well-being though she did not say so out loud.

 


	17. Return to Redcliffe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahariel sucks at being a leader. Alistair's jealous because Mahariel listens to Zevran. Morrigan goes into the fade and Mahariel doesn't like it.
> 
> Beta'd by Witchybee as usual. Thank you. <3

Mahariel sighed heavily as Redcliffe finally came into view. He was exhausted, as were the rest of his companions. Despite their exhaustion Mahariel had insisted that they continue on for the sake of Redcliffe and its people. He was certainly not the only one feeling the exhaustion of it all.

Other than Zevran, who had apparently been in no rush prior to meeting them and was well rested, everyone else seemed ready to pack it in, or drop where they were.

Mahariel paused as they came to a ridge which led into Redcliffe's main village. Tamlen halted at his feet, sitting immediately and panting up at him. Even the mabari was exhausted.

“We're going to need to leave some people behind,” he said to himself softly. Alistair, who was at his side as usual, looked at him inquisitively.

“How do you mean?” he asked, and Mahariel turned to look at the others who were taking up the rear on the ridge.

“They are all exhausted. It would be best to bring a small team, consisting of a few mages, and a few of us,” Mahariel explained, gesturing to the group, several were trailing. Alistair folded his arms, nodding affirmatively.

“The demon probably wouldn't take kindly to us showing up with this many people either,” he added.

“I think we should leave the women behind. They seem--”

“Oh no you don't,” Morrigan protested, coming up on his right. “You will need someone who knows magic to come into the castle with you, will you not? I refuse to be left behind, like some delicate flower.”

“I'm certain he didn't mean _you,_ ” Alistair retorted, glaring at her as she came to a stop before them.

“Did he not?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Mahariel, I will be going with you,” she added, crossing her arms stubbornly, with a pointed look at the elf.

“I wouldn't argue with you, Morrigan,” Mahariel replied, crossing his own arms as Alistair dropped his hands to his sides and rolled his eyes.

“There's a smart boy.” Morrigan smiled triumphantly at Alistair before turning to look at the group.

Mahariel looked at the people who were now coming into line with them over the ridge. He hated speaking to them as an entire group, preferring to say something to one person and have them pass it on. Right now, however, he didn't want anything to be miscommunicated, and passing word from one person to another had that effect.

He cleared his throat weakly, looking up at Alistair, who was apparently not ready to help him at the moment as he was glaring daggers at Morrigan.

“Uhm... A...attention, can I...uh...” Mahariel stuttered, watching as a few mages made eye contact with him, but didn't stop as they continued past.

“Attention please!” an accented voice arose over the crowd, as Zevran came up to him and landed a hearty pat to his shoulder, “Let's all listen to the Grey Warden!” he called, causing several people to stop instantly, and several more to stop out of curiosity. Leliana, who was trailing behind with Wynne, came to a stop halfway up the ridge with the rest of the trailing mages. Sten who had walked past him halted as well, which made all following him come to a stop.

Alistair glared at Zevran, but Mahariel smiled gratefully at him and turned so he had a better view of the group. The stragglers hurried to come up the hill so they could hear better. Tamlen yawned and lay at Mahariel's feet, apparently ready to take a nap.

Mahariel took a deep breath.

“We've finally reached Redcliffe, and so we have to decide who is going into the castle,” he explained, his voice loud, but trembling from the effort of having to speak to so many people. He paused, seeing a few shaking heads in the mages and one of the templars. Alistair watched him for a moment then, sensing he wasn't going to continue, took over.

“We've decided that a small group will travel into the castle, leaving behind anyone who is too tired to continue, and making sure that we do not alert the demon in the castle to the size of our group.” To his dismay, Zevran began nodding enthusiastically.

“Yes, that does make sense,” the elf replied loudly, with a pointed look at Mahariel. He was clearly trying to help him gain support for some reason. “And who will you be taking with you, Grey Warden?” he asked, still entirely ignoring Alistair as if he'd never spoken. Alistair huffed, folding his arms and looking at Mahariel.

“Well,” Mahariel started, taken aback by the focus suddenly being forced back onto him. “Myself, Alistair, Morrigan...the First Enchanter and anyone he needs...and...” he trailed off, looking over the group. Sten was watching on, completely unimpressed by his timid behaviour. Wynne and Leliana were both looking exhausted. As he glanced back at the templars, he caught sight of Zevran again, who was standing with his arms folded and his eyebrow raised. “Oh...you I guess, Zevran.”

“What?” Alistair blurted, taking a step closer to Mahariel. “Do you really think that's a good idea, Mahariel?”

“Then it is decided!” Zevran exclaimed, ignoring Alistair's protests and clapping his hands together as if that sealed the deal. “Shall we set out once the camp is set, Grey Warden?”

“Uh...yes?” Mahariel turned to Alistair, who was now pointing in disbelief at Zevran and giving Mahariel an expression which said: “See?” He held his hands up defensively.

“Good!” Zevran said, turning to help set up the camp.

“Mahariel, you can't let him give orders and dictate your actions like that,” Alistair said, glaring after Zevran with his arms crossed. Mahariel frowned, scratching the tip of his nose.

“Is that...what he did?” he asked, unsure, also following Zevran's actions through the camp. Morrigan snorted from somewhere behind him. Alistair sighed.

“Look, I know he's an elf but--”

“What? That has nothing to do with it!” Mahariel insisted, waving a hand to dismiss the claim.

“Is there a problem?” Leliana asked as she approached, tilting her head in interest.

“Yes!” Alistair exclaimed, leaning forward into Mahariel's space and glaring at him sourly. “Mahariel's letting that assassin tell him what to do.”

“Oh, surely you are overreacting Alistair,” Leliana put in, noticing how Mahariel withdrew from Alistair's invasion.

“He did let the assassin colour his decision,” Morrigan pointed out. Mahariel looked over his shoulder at her helplessly, seeing her leaning against the rocky hill face with her arms crossed, her eyebrows raised sarcastically.

“It was one thing!” Mahariel insisted, turning back to Alistair and taking a step backwards to escape him. “I don't understand! He doesn't have to come with us to the castle if you don't want him to...” The elf's gaze dropped to the ground. He huffed out of his nose and his lip started trembling, his shoulders falling forward as he gripped his left arm with his right hand tightly.

Tamlen, apparently picking up on Mahariel's distress, lifted his head and growled at Alistair, then stood up and began pressing his head against Mahariel's leg.

Alistair pulled back, swallowing thickly and looking between Leliana, who now had  _her_ arms crossed in dissatisfaction, and Morrigan who was studying her nails as if she hadn't spoken. He sighed, scratching at his hairline as his gaze trailed over the grass in an effort not to look at Mahariel. 

“Alright, it's fine, just...try to think for yourself, alright?” Alistair asked, conceding to the elf's apparent show of submission. Mahariel looked up at him, glaring moodily, his lip poking out stubbornly, before he pushed past Alistair without a word and went to help the others in setting a fire, Tamlen in toe. Alistair turned around to watch Mahariel as he pushed past, before turning back to Leliana and Morrigan, both of whom were watching him now.

“Poor choice of words, Alistair,” Morrigan chastised. “Let us hope it has not put him in a sour mood for the remainder of the day,” she said as she walked past him as well. Alistair gaped after her.

“How did this suddenly become _my_ fault?” he demanded, though no answer came from the mage.

“You cannot be the only one who Mahariel listens to, Alistair,” Leliana counselled softly. “He will not appreciate you trying to monopolise him.” Alistair turned to frown at her.

“But...Morrigan...” Leliana gave him a pointed look, and Alistair sighed, “Was trying to get me into trouble. Damn it.” He scrubbed his face with his hand, shaking his head and turning to accompany the rest of the group.

~oOo~

 

Mahariel was still in a mood when they reached the castle. He hadn't spoken to Alistair or Morrigan and, despite his best attempts, Zevran hadn't been able to raise any conversation out of him beyond 'yes' and 'no' answers.

Though Mahariel tensed visibly when they entered the castle, it was not apparent whether it was because of his nerves with the demon, or his concern for Bann Teagan.

As they entered the main hall a gushing sigh of relief left the elf, and he rushed forward to make sure that everything was still well.

“You have returned!” Teagan exclaimed, taking several steps forward to investigate the group which had entered the hall, shaking Alistair's hand firmly and then Mahariel's. The First Enchanter had brought two senior mages with him, and entered behind Mahariel and his group, “And you have been victorious in recruiting the mages.” He also shook Irving's hand.

“Semi-victorious,” Alistair put in testily. Teagan offered him a raised eyebrow, but didn't question his words.

“We...met some trouble along the way, but it has been solved. I am relieved to see you in good health, Teagan,” Mahariel said, throwing a glare over his shoulder at Alistair.

“Yes,” Teagan answered, glancing at Isolde. “Connor has been mostly silent, but we must make haste.”

“We have brought lyrium,” Irving said. “We can begin preparations and start the ritual at any time.” Teagan turned to him and nodded thankfully. “Now,” Irving turned to Mahariel, “Who will we be sending into the Fade?”

Mahariel turned to look at the mages Irving had brought with him, but his gaze set on Morrigan. It was obvious that this was why she had insisted on coming. He didn't really want to send any person into the Fade though, and he remained silent, simply looking at her. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he chewed his cheek in indecision.

“ _I_ will be going, I should think.” Morrigan said finally, looking past Mahariel at the First Enchanter with disgust. Mahariel turned back to Irving and nodded slowly.

“Yes, Morrigan will be...going.” He took a deep breath, then released it shakily. His mind began racing with all the things which could go wrong. Morrigan, seemingly unfazed, passed him and stood before the First Enchanter.

“Good, then we must begin the ritual,” Irving concluded, reaching forward to guide Morrigan to sit in a chair, but she dodged out of the way and sat herself down like royalty.

Mahariel watched her, his breath quickening as anxiety gripped him. Alistair gripped his shoulder gently, but it did no help. Finally Morrigan scoffed.

“Oh, take him out,” she snapped, rolling her eyes. Teagan watched with concern, making eye-contact with Alistair and hoping to be assured that all as well. Alistair shrugged in reply.

Doing as he was told, Alistair draped an arm over Mahariel's shoulders and practically pulled him from the room. He led him outside, sitting him on the stairs. Zevran followed, watching with interest. Alistair sat beside Mahariel, who was staring blankly into space.

“Mahariel?” Alistair enquired, watching as Mahariel started worrying his hands between his knees. The elf didn't answer, simply shaking his head and dropped his gaze to the stair beneath him. “You know Morrigan won't let some demon get the best of her, right?” he tried, still not garnering the reaction he wanted as Mahariel shook his head again.

Finally, Zevran sat on the other side of Mahariel, watching him curiously and ignoring Alistair's glare.

“Why do you feel such distress, Grey Warden?” Zevran asked. “Is this not the reason you entered the castle in the first place?”

“What if the demon eats her?” Mahariel asked quietly, so quiet that Zevran had to strain to hear.

“Eats her?” Zevran asked, confused.

“Niall, he--” Mahariel's voice cracked and he pulled his legs tightly to his chest, hiding his face in his knees.

“Mahariel, Niall was in the Fade for _hours,_ ” Alistair consoled, holding onto Mahariel's shoulder and squeezing lightly. “Besides that, Morrigan is going in because she _wants_ to, not because she is being pulled in by a sloth demon.”

“Who is Niall?” Zevran continued to watch Mahariel, noting that whatever Alistar was saying was not really helping.

“A friend...” Mahariel replied, shaking his head into his knees and saying no more. Alistair sighed, looking between Mahariel and Zevran, who was watching Mahariel with great interest, but no sympathy.

“Niall was a mage Mahariel met while we were stuck in the Fade,” Alistair explained tersely, causing Zevran to look at him with concern for a split second before his look of interest returned.

“Stuck?” he asked, watching Alistair now.

“Yes. Before you and your...group found us on the road, we had been at the Circle of Magi, slaying maleficarum and abominations,” Alistair answered. Zevran nodded once, brow furrowing for a moment before he turned back to Mahariel, apparently not needing the rest of the explanation.

“I would not like to spend time in the Fade myself, during waking hours,” Zevran offered, to which Mahariel shook his head.

“'Spend time in' is putting it lightly,” Alistair scoffed, shaking his head.

“It felt like _days,_ ” Mahariel muttered, looking up from his knees and fixing his gaze somewhere far away. “Wandering...and fighting...completely alone.” Alistair looked down at his friend, brow furrowed deeply. Zevran looked up at him, raising his brows at Alistair's reaction. “I thought,” Mahariel continued softly, “I thought I was going to be alone forever.”

“But you are not alone now, Warden,” Zevran replied, trying to catch Mahariel's gaze, but failing. Alistair frowned at Mahariel, unsure if Zevran's presence or the situation was making Mahariel finally talk about the Fade incident. He'd caught the elf staring into space, or specifically in the direction of the Mage Tower when it was in view, several times since they had left the Circle, but he hadn't spoken once about the Fade.

“Maybe I'm still dreaming...” Mahariel whispered, to which Zevran outright snorted, jarring Mahariel into looking at him.

“If you were dreaming, I would have to commend your ability to dream the image of a handsome man such as myself,” Zevran retorted, which earned him a look of confusion from Mahariel before he turned to stare at nothing again. Alistair squeezed his shoulder again. Mahariel dropped his forehead to his knees and sat in silence.

The door behind them opened.

“It is done.”

Mahariel practically jumped out of his skin. He on his feet and turned around in a split second to face Morrigan, who stood just outside the door with her arms crossed and looking very bored.

“Y...you're all right.” Mahariel muttered, to which Morrigan smirked at him. Zevran and Alistair stood as well.

“Well, of course I'm all right. I--”

Mahariel rushed forward, grabbing her around the shoulders and pulling her into a very tight hug, his forehead pressed into her collarbone.

“Unhand me this instant!” To Morrigan's dismay, Mahariel had begun to sob.

“I thought you would die!” he cried, holding on to her with a strength she was surprised he possessed.

“Why would I die? You silly boy. I...oh, this is about whatever happened in the mage tower, isn't it?” She forced her hands up between them, pushing him away roughly. Mahariel automatically reached up to cover his face with one hand, only one eye visible behind it. “I am quite all right, as you can _see._ Now cease your silly blubbering!” Morrigan insisted, interrupting Alistair's protest to her rough treatment of the elf. 

Alistair placed a tentative hand on Mahariel's shoulder, drawing closer when he didn't withdraw.

“I-is the boy all right?” Mahariel asked, as he started rubbing his eyes.

“I do not know, for I came to you right away to assure you of my condition. His mother and uncle have gone to check on him. Now, if you are quite done?” Morrigan raised an eyebrow at Mahariel, folding her arms in hopes it would deter any more _touching_. She noticed with amusement that Zevran was observing their interactions with great interest.

“D...Done,” Mahariel assured her, sniffling pitifully and letting his hands fall to his sides. He watched her, a brilliant smile blooming on to his face. “I should have known you'd be just fine.”

“Yes, you should have. Now let us convene inside, where we are sure to receive word of the boy and arl's condition much quicker than if we remain here,” Morrigan replied bluntly, turning to open the door and return inside.

“That was really fast,” Alistair said, as they all followed her inside.

“It was the Fade, and a foolish demon who thought it could best me. It could not.”

“Are you all right?” Zevran turned to Mahariel, looking at him where he'd lagged to the back of their small group. Mahariel sniffed again, running his hand under his nose.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice gravelly.

As they arrived in the main hall, Teagan also entered from the hallway.

“Connor is himself again,” he said, voice filled with relief. “I cannot thank you enough,” he said to Morrigan.

“Do not thank me, for I would not have done it if not for Mahariel's insistence,” Morrigan replied breezily, deferring behind her to Mahariel, who looked up like he'd been struck by lightening.

“Then thank _you,_ Mahariel, and you, Alistair,” Teagan corrected, looking between the two of them. Mahariel tilted his head at Teagan, as he past Morrigan to stand beside Alistair at the front of their group.

“And the arl?” he asked. Teagan frowned, looking away and shaking his head slightly.

“He does not appear to be in pain, but he remains in a comatose state,” Teagan explained gravely. Mahariel frowned, as Isolde entered from behind Teagan with Connor at her side.

“You must seek out the Urn of Sacred Ashes,” Isolde stated, watching as Connor wandered over to speak to the mages.

“The what?” Mahariel frowned, looking up at Alistair.

“The knight we met at Lothering mentioned it, remember?” Alistair provided thoughtfully. Mahariel shook his head slightly, only vaguely remembering anything about Lothering, he'd still been in shock from what had happened at Ostigar.

“You must find Brother Genitivi. He will know where the urn is,” Isolde added, looking between the two Wardens. “They say he is in Denerim.”

A grin spread over Mahariel's face for a moment, gone before Alistair noticed. He looked up at Alistair, easing his expression into an innocent smile.

“Then I suppose we have to go to Denerim.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alistair agreed, not catching on. Mahariel shrugged and turned back to Teagan.

“Can you arrange some sort of escort for the First Enchanter back to the Circle?” Mahariel asked.

“I'm sure that the Chantry could do that,” Teagan said. “I suppose we'll have to send Connor to the Circle for training as well...”

Mahariel nodded. “Yes. I think that is for the best.”

“Thank you again for all of your help, friends,” Teagan nodded, as the mages who had been with Irving wandered over. “Be safe on your journey, I hope you return in one piece.” He reached forward to shake Alistair and Mahariel's hands again.

Mahariel smiled at the man. “Thank you as well,” he concluded, turning to leave the hall. “Stay safe. We will return soon.”

With this, the group left the castle, on their way to return to camp.


	18. Author's Note

I know that people really hate seeings these types of chapters, but bear with me and I promise you it is only a  _place holder_. I will be continuing to write this story, but I need to rewrite the first several chapters, do some editing, redo some other things. I'm replaying Keladryl as a character on my PC, in which I have a heavily modded version of DA which makes my playing a lot more fun.

I'm not sure if I'm going to keep up with the 'writing by the dialogue' because it keeps killing my muse and I do a lot better writing freely. Some dialogue may be altered from here on in, and I may not do actual idle banter chats rather doing more of my own dialogue. 

In this place holder I would be happy to hear any comments on characterisations I've done thus far, on any grammar/spelling mistakes I've made. I already know several of them, my grammar has increased over the past few months...somehow?

Anyways I'm so sorry for the lag in updates, I'll be trying to update as soon as possible. My actual updates throughout all my works will probably fall a bit to the way side in the next few weeks due to a...change in location? So I'll try to keep everyone updated as to what's going on.

Here's an up to date list of chapters and what I'm doing with them/whether they're done (Warning: I may be merging chapters which I deem to be too short/not have enough of the story in them):

  1. Chapter 1: **Complete**
  2. Chapter 2:  **Complete**
  3. Chapter 3: **Complete**
  4. ~~Chapter 4~~ : Merged with Chapter 3
  5. ~~Chapter 5~~ : Merged with Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 6: Editing (25%)
  7. Chapter 7: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  8. Chapter 8: Editing (25%)
  9. Chapter 9: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  10. Chapter 10: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  11. Chapter 11: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  12. Chapter 12: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  13. Chapter 13: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  14. Chapter 14: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  15. Chapter 15: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  16. Chapter 16: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  17. Chapter 17: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  18. Chapter 18: Awaiting rewrite/edit
  19. Chapter 19: Awaiting rewrite/edit




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